


Every Song is About You

by Speary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Closeted Dean Winchester, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Winchester Comes Out, Dean/Cas Tropefest, Destiel - Freeform, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Freaked Out Dean Winchester, M/M, Pansexual Castiel (Supernatural), Rock Star Castiel (Supernatural), Rock Star Dean Winchester, Rock Stars, deancastropefest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 00:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 45,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18767458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speary/pseuds/Speary
Summary: Castiel, a successful musician with the band Fallen, lost everything that he thought mattered. Grieving the loss of his band after a tragic accident,  Castiel decides that he doesn't need to make music anymore. Crowley, his manager, is not okay with this plan. Enter Dean, the former member of the band, Winchester, who needs something to help fix what's broken in his life and his career. He has his own internal demons to fight, and the fact that Castiel still hates him after all these years isn't exactly helping anything. Despite all that, they form a new band together and slowly unravel the past.





	1. You Probably Think This Song is About You

**Author's Note:**

> I've been a little AWOL on the writing lately. Tis the season of busy I reckon. So I really must thank the good folks at ye olde Dean Cas Tropefest for putting on this tempting challenge. Muse and Jojo, as always, you are both awesome, helpful, and entirely appreciated. My awesome artist [Correlia](http://correlia-be.tumblr.com) has made some beautiful art for this fic, and I couldn't have asked for a better experience. Thank you, thank you, Correlia! I also had two marvelous beta readers fix this up right quick, [Alison](http://partyof3blog.tumblr.com/) and JayCee. Thank you both for making my fic presentable. Lastly, thank you all readers for always encouraging me to keep up this whole writing thing. You are the best!
> 
> Art Masterpost: [Correlia Masterpost](https://correlia-be.tumblr.com/post/184759044769/my-art-for-the-2019-tropefest-every-song-is-about)

 

Castiel sat in the casual studio space, guitar in hand. There was a notepad on a stool next to him, his neat printing spanning the page. He’d be writing more now if it weren’t for the interruption. Crowley was sitting on the little couch in the corner, fully committed to not leaving. He had his arms on his thighs, hands folded in front of him.

 

“Look at them, Cassie,” his tone low and a little forceful.

 

“I’ll look at them when I’m ready. Come back tomorrow.” Castiel raked his hand over the strings of the acoustic guitar. He wasn’t playing anything, just filling the room with the sound. He hoped it would be enough to send Crowley away. “You want me to get this album together, right?”

 

“I do. That’s why you can’t keep doing it alone. The stuff you’ve written is all half songs, and you are showing no signs of getting it done. You don’t work well alone. You have to get a band together.”

 

Castiel tossed his head back with a groan of absolute frustration. “Leave.”

 

“Pick.” Crowley pointed at the laptop he’d set on the table in front of him.

 

Castiel reluctantly set the guitar aside. “I don’t want a band.”

 

“Then pick a person. We’ll start there.” Crowley got up, picked up the laptop, and opened it. He logged in and set it on Castiel’s lap. “The folder on the desktop has all the audition videos.”

 

“You held auditions?” Castiel’s brows came together.

 

“Not so much. I gathered videos from interested parties. No need for all of the scheduling that in-person auditions take. I got one from a...” he paused like he didn’t know what to say next, then added, “a friend.”

 

Castiel clicked open the folder. The sooner he watched a couple, the sooner he could say no and send Crowley back to the drawing board. The first was a sandy-haired man singing into a mic, no guitar, just acapella. His voice was fine. “No,” he said.

 

“So, no on Brady. Fine” Crowley found a rolling chair and dragged it over to Castiel’s side. “Next.”

 

Castiel clicked on the next link. He immediately closed it. “Horrible.”

 

“That was less than five seconds.”

 

“So.”

 

“So? That was less than five seconds of Kevin Tran. He’s talented, multilingual, hip.”

 

“Tell me why I should care.”

 

Now it was Crowley’s turn to toss his head back in frustration. “You’re getting old, buddy.”

 

“I’m not even 40 yet.”

 

“Still, he’s young. He’s got a following. This could be good for you both.”

 

“No.”

 

Crowley tried again. “You’ve heard him play. There isn’t an instrument he hasn’t mastered.”

 

“The didgeridoo?”  

 

“Not sure. Do you have a song that needs it?”

 

Castiel clicked on the next link. He let it play to the end. Jo Harvelle. He liked her. He had spent some time with her at a past social event, drinking a bit too much. She could sure hold her liquor though, and he had struggled to keep up with her. He didn’t want to work with her though. He just wanted to keep doing the friend thing. Forming up a band with her would effectively end that.

 

“Does she know you gave me this video?” Castiel looked at Crowley.

 

“Maybe. I got it via her agent.”

 

“So some of these people might not even want to be involved with me?” It was a question. “Some of these people don’t know their agents are sending these to me.”

 

“Everyone wants to work with you.”

 

Castiel laughed bitterly. “Uriel, Anna, Luc.” He laughed more.

 

“They don’t count. Besides, they’re not available anyway.” Crowley set a hand on Castiel's knee, until he glared fire at the spot. “Sorry, too soon.”

 

“It’ll always be too soon. I don’t want that again.” He closed his eyes and hoped Crowley would just have mercy and go away. There was a bottle of Jack in the cabinet at the other end of the room; he could make good use of it. “Go.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault you were lucky.”

 

“I wasn’t lucky. They decided I wasn’t a good fit. They moved on. Then…”

 

“Then the crash.” Crowley finished for him. “That wasn’t your fault. And no one knew about the breakup. No one ever needs to know about the breakup.”

 

“Not the point. I just want to be alone.” Castiel was about to close the laptop. He could leave. He didn’t have to stay for this. Sure he had a contract, and Crowley would hold him to the letter of it: three more studio albums and two tours. It was too much to even think about. At least he had time. There were no time constraints at all in the contract. He could drag this out until after his first hip replacement, he reckoned.

 

Crowley opened another video, and Castiel watched it. “Don’t pick this one, but feel free to get back in the zone with him. I’ve got ten more to show you after him.”

 

_Dean Winchester._ Castiel watched him play the guitar like the master he was. The black Fender was perfectly poised in his lap. His long fingers gliding over the strings with a speed that was otherworldly. He didn’t sing. Castiel held his breath. He knew Dean. He knew his style and skill. He knew more than that, shamelessly following the career of the Winchester band over the years. The inevitable break up of that band was a different kind of tragedy from his own.

 

 

Dean suddenly stopped playing and spoke to the camera. “Why you filming this, Bobby? You seen me play a thousand times.”

 

The low voice behind the camera replied. “Just show me you still got it, boy. Stop questioning me.”

 

Dean sighed and set aside his guitar. “Wait here Baby.” He picked up another guitar, an acoustic. He played a slow melody, something Castiel had never heard before. _Must be a new song._ “All of the ways that you left…” His voice rolled like a bit of thunder, gravely, just this shy of wrong. It did something to him. Castiel found himself leaning forward in his seat.

 

Crowley reached over, closing the video before it ended. “Now listen to this next one.” He was about to open another, but Castiel stopped him.

 

“No more.”

 

“You’ll like him. Gavin is a character.”

 

“He’s your son, Crowley.”

 

“I’m not saying that nepotism is dead here.” He laughed. “So, he’s available.”

 

Castiel stopped him again. “Why can’t I pick Winchester?”

 

“He’s a mess. I only included him as a favor to an old friend.”

 

“Bobby Singer.” The voice on the other end of the camera. Castiel knew about the odd rivalry between the two producers. They weren’t always at each other’s throats though. There were pictures enough to prove that.

 

“Yeah.” Crowley got up and started pacing. “You know his brother’s still in rehab. The band blames him for that and the break up.”

 

“He had to do something,” Castiel muttered to no one.

 

“Yeah, well, tell that to the band that doesn’t have a lead singer anymore.”

 

“It was either rehab or the graveyard from what I’ve heard.”

 

Crowley just hummed his agreement. “Still, Winchester isn't ready for this, despite what Bobby thinks. He just wants his boy to be doing something. He’s worried that he’s gonna fall apart with all this time on his hands.”

 

Now Castiel just hummed in lieu of an answer. He stared at the screen in front of him. “We used to know each other.”

 

“I imagine you’ve met up with him a bunch of times over the years.”

 

“No. I haven't spoken with him in many years. Pretty sure he wouldn’t remember the last time. He was drunk.”

 

“Was he?”

 

Castiel closed the laptop and set it on the table. He walked to the cabinet and got out the bottle of Jack. He had some glasses stowed behind the bottle and brought two of them over to the table too. He poured a little into each glass.

 

“Cassie, it’s 9:00 am.”

 

“So what.” He lifted his glass and pushed the other toward Crowley.

 

“You gotta pick.”

 

“I don’t gotta do anything. It’s not in my contract that I have to work with some random person you decide to throw at me.”

 

Crowley picked up his glass and downed it all in one go. He cleared his throat and said, “Actually it is. You are a part of a band. I didn’t sign you as a solo act. So you do have to pick someone.” The edge of his lip ticked up almost imperceptibly. He added, “And you have to do it by the year’s end or be in violation of contract. There are penalties you can’t afford.”

 

“I don’t see what you gain from this. I’ll make you money just fine on my own.”

 

“No you won’t. Don’t think I haven’t seen you dragging this all out. I know I fucked up when I didn’t give you a timeline on when my albums and tours had to be completed, but I did get that clause in there about you having a band.” Crowley folded his hands in front of him. “And I know that you are the kind of guy that doesn’t like to let someone down. You’ll do this for a partner, for a band. You’ll make your songs that make me money, if someone that's not me is depending on you.”

 

“I know you’re depending on me.”

 

“I know you don’t care about me enough to increase my profits. So you get to pick or I will. Today.” Crowley added the last to punctuate the sentence.

 

Castiel poured another glass and drank it down. “Did Winchester know that Bobby was sending this?”

 

Crowley just glared at him for a moment. “I'm sure he did. Bobby never said anything to make me think otherwise.”

 

Castiel looked at his hands, folded, clenched really. _He chose to send the video. He wants this. Why? “_ Then it’s Winchester.”

 

“Make sure to clear some time from your packed schedule. You two will have work to do.” It was said too quickly. Crowley walked out whistling a jaunty tune of his own making. Neither said goodbye. Castiel couldn’t help but feel that he’d been tricked.

 

He watched the door close between him and Crowley and thought, _Not like he'll say yes anyway. This was all likely some sort of dumb joke._

 

 

“You’ve got no business being mad at me.” Bobby was following him from room to room in his penthouse. Dean wondered if he’d stop following him if he locked himself in the bathroom. He turned on his heels and headed that way. Bobby seemed to see the path and blocked him. “You need this.”

 

“You went behind my back. You,” Dean pointed at Bobby’s chest. “You had no business sending that out. And to Crowley of all people.”

 

“If I can work with him, you can work with him.”

 

Dean moved around him and headed down the hall. He got into the bathroom and closed the door. Bobby stood outside, seemingly determined to wait him out. “Go away.”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m done, Bobby. Sam’s out; I’m out.”

 

“Sam doesn’t want that.”

 

“I don’t care what he wants. I did this for him. I’ll wait ‘til he gets out. If he wants back in the life, then I’ve got his back.”

 

“He doesn’t and you know it. He’s getting clean and this ain’t no place for a former junkie.” Dean could hear Bobby's sigh even through the door. Dean heard a little thump against the door. He opened it to find Bobby nearly falling into the space. “If he thinks you want that life back, which we both know you do, he’ll get back in. And he’ll be using again in no time.”

 

“I don’t want to do this without him.”

 

“You’ll have to.”

 

Dean felt the weight of the moment settle over his whole frame, pressing him into the floor, crushing him. “I’m pushing 40, Bobby. I’m not the kind of guy that bands want.”

 

“Not true.”

 

“Yeah, Crowley is a producer, not a band.”

 

“Crowley just facilitated the thing. Castiel Novak wants you.” Dean felt every muscle seize up. _No fucking way._ “He’s expecting you on Friday at the studio.”

 

“No way.” Dean wasn’t breathing right. It was a bunch of ragged stops and starts. It had been one thing to send out the video to agents, but quite another to send it to Castiel.

 

“He said to bring your guitars.”

 

“I...there must be a mistake. He…” Dean didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how deep this joke was running. Castiel couldn’t want this.

 

“Spit it out, boy. What’s wrong with you?” Bobby looked done. His hands were pressed firmly to his hips. He was in an old button-down and jeans. It was as dressed up as he’d get for someone that was more family than client.

 

“He hates me, Bobby.”

 

“What’re you talking about? Have you even talked to the guy before?”

 

“I, yeah, uh.” _Shit._ “We met once. I’m telling you, he hates me. This is a joke. There’s no way.”

 

“Maybe he doesn’t hate you.”

 

“Ten years of glares across whatever room we find ourselves in tells me I’m right.”

 

“Crowley wouldn’t take the time to mess with you. He needs this to work.”

 

That sounded believable. Crowley didn’t have time for anything that didn’t make him money. Cas though. Cas might. Bobby put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze of comfort. “I can’t, Bobby.”

 

“Yes you can. Please try, if not for me or you, then for Sammy.”

 

Dean had to close his eyes then. He was going to be humiliated. He braced himself. _The things you do for love._ “Okay.”

 

 

The week passed in a rush. It seemed that Castiel found himself pulled in several directions at once. There was Crowley always checking on him and Meg getting him to sign one document or another that would help Crowley in his unending quest toward selling more of the old music the band had made and never released. Castiel did not want to deal with it, none of it, not the awkward interactions, not the inevitable pitying looks.

 

In the end he found distractions. He went back to the audition videos that he’d gotten ahold of. He watched Dean’s video again. _Dean sent the video, or he at least approved it._ He didn’t want to believe that it would really amount to anything. Sure he had picked Dean, but he just couldn’t believe that Dean had really picked him. He went through his days with thoughts like that floating around in his head, clouding up his usual clarity.

 

Castiel took comfort in the fact that he was finally home now. It was the one place that made him feel at ease. He lived alone, far from the crowds that made up the L.A. scene. He went to his exercise studio and flicked on a light. The yoga mat was laid out in the middle of the room waiting to welcome him. He walked to it, taking off his shoes before starting.

 

At first, he just lay on his back and breathed in and out as deeply as he could. He stared at the ceiling. Normally he'd focus on the many ridges and grooves in the ceiling texture. It would take his mind off the broader world. Tonight though, his mind wouldn't rest. It had been ten years.

 

_Why do you want this?_ It could have been a question for Dean or even just to himself. _It's my penance. I deserve this._ He thought of Anna, of Luc, of Uriel. He was going to quit if they hadn't pushed him out first. _Different artistic directions_ , they'd said. _Bullshit_.

 

Now here he was, _lucky._ They'd have patched things up in time. He knew that, believed it. He'd pushed them too hard. Back-to-back tours and constant studio time were bound to break them. Anna had a family, or at least she did. Uriel wanted to pursue other interests. They didn't want to break up the band. They just wanted to stop being driven like cattle by its leader.

 

At the time, Castiel didn't see it that way. He saw it as rejection. They still had a tour to complete, but Castiel got drunk and told them to see how it all went without him. His biggest regret. _Should have died right there with you._

 

He stood and stretched to the ceiling. He put his body through the poses. In the end, his mind was a little clearer, he lay back on the mat again.

 

He closed his eyes and saw green ones looking back, rheumy with intoxication. Those eyes were something. Castiel felt himself leaning toward them, toward the past. He opened his eyes to the empty room, to the last dregs of Thursday night.

 

 

Dean found himself on the top floor of his complex, surrounded by neighbors he hardly knew. They did these social events at the pool from time to time in the summer. He only went to calm his nerves, find whatever distraction he could. Tomorrow would be Friday, and he was not feeling ready for that. He considered drinking the night away, but that might make things a little too much like before.

 

Instead he nursed a beer and watched the people he barely knew flirt and laugh and ramble on about nothing at all.

 

“Penny for your thoughts,” Bela settled into the seat next to him, her light brown hair pulled up into a neat ponytail.

 

“Just regretting my life's choices.” Dean laughed.

 

She smiled back at him. She'd be distracting. She'd be fine with the proposition too. She lived two flights down from him. He'd have to see her around afterwards, though. It could be awkward. “Work that miserable?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

 

“I've got an audition tomorrow.”

 

“Oh, branching out into film? You should have told me. I've got all of the connections.” And she really did. She'd been in two films that premiered this year alone, and both were getting a lot of buzz.

 

“Still a musician. Not doing film just yet. And if I do, you'll be the first to know.” He tossed her a wink for good measure.

 

“But you said you were auditioning.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Her brows came together. She looked at him past a squint. It was cute. Dean found himself smiling. “Why would you need to audition for what you're already doing?”

 

Dean wasn't sure how secret this all needed to be. He hadn't signed an NDA so he figured it was fine. Still he kept some details to himself. “Might be joining up with a new band.”

 

“Really?” She leaned in closer. “That's big news.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Still doesn't explain why you need to audition.” She leaned back into her space. “You're Dean Winchester. If they don't know what you can do, they've been living under a rock.”

 

“'Preciate that, Bela.” He really did too. She wasn't quick to ladle on the praise. He got up, worried that he'd make another bad life choice and ask her to his place. “Better get home to prepare anyway.”

 

She smiled, small and genuine at him. “Best of luck tomorrow.”

 

He adopted the persona, the swagger, and said, “Don't need the luck. You said yourself, I'm Dean Winchester.” At least they both laughed. Otherwise he'd be kicking himself later for being such a pretentious dick.

 

 

Dean did what he could to wind down. He lay in his bed, most of the lights off, shades drawn. His laptop was perched on his knees. He'd already watched porn, sent emails, watched more porn, and read the news. His brain was going too fast through thoughts both past and present. _Why now?_

 

He opened YouTube. He typed in a search he shouldn't, _Castiel Grammys David_. It'd be enough to bring up the performance, the one solo act he'd done ever.

 

He found the video and hovered over it before clicking. _This is stupid._ He clicked. The video began as a distant shot that gradually drew closer. Castiel sat under a harsh, white spotlight. It made everything around him completely dark.

 

He plucked out a few notes on his acoustic guitar. The song had a tone of Spanish melancholy to it. The first full minute was just guitar work. It didn't seem like much at first, but a minute is a long time for a song intro. It was a bold move, but it worked.

 

Dean noticed his heart wasn't beating right. The camera was drawing closer and closer to Castiel. Then the singing began. It was a quiet breath of words. The volume increasing only slightly with each verse. But by the end, by the end…

 

Dean was holding his breath. He remembered how it was when he saw it the first time. He was sure he had held his breath then too, right along with the whole audience. They'd seen the movie the song had been written for: the story of a closeted gay man that didn't get tossed to the clichéd kill-your-gays final scene like everyone thought he would. There were tears in the crowd. The song evoked every emotion that the film did.

 

Castiel stood. His eyes, blue and shining with unshed tears, stared out into the dark. His voice rose and wrapped around chords and notes. His gaze never wavered. Dean had been there, straight ahead of that gaze. There was no way Castiel could have seen him past the lighting, no way, but it felt like he had. And even now, even now, in an empty penthouse on top of the world, Castiel's eyes held his.

 

The camera was as close as it'd get. The final note was held, long and rich and warm. Castiel let go of the guitar, let it hang loose at his chest. His hands fell to his sides. Silence. The crowd erupted with applause. The video ended. It was about to auto play another song, something else from the Grammys. Dean shut it off and remembered to breathe.

 

He reached over to his nightstand and popped open a pill bottle. He poured out two pills and dry swallowed them. They were just sleeping pills. He knew his brain wasn't going to let him rest. He turned off the lights. He was afraid. _Get it together._ He closed his eyes.

 

He prayed for sleep to claim him.

 

 

“Hello boys,” Crowley practically purred as Dean and Bobby were ushered into his office.

 

Bobby shook Crowley’s offered hand and said, “You've changed it up in here. No more art deco.”

 

“Yeah, decided to go modern.” Crowley took a seat at his desk and began arranging papers. He looked at Dean and said, “You're like a fine wine.”

 

“Thanks,” Dean muttered. “Where's Cas?”

 

“Oh, he hates contract stuff. He said you could go to the studio when you're done here.”

 

“You got my changes, right?” Bobby asked. “Don't think I didn't notice that bit of _perpetuity_ language you threw in there.”

 

Crowley laughed. “Just keeping you on your toes, love.”

 

Bobby scowled. “Don't call me that.”

 

Crowley smiled and said, “Anything for you, dear.”

 

“Can we get on with this?” Dean asked, not masking his frustration.

 

Crowley walked them through the contract, every boring bit of it. Dean's eyes were glazing before the end of the first page. Bobby was sharp though, changing things here and there as they went on, until it was perfect. “Looks acceptable now?” Crowley asked.

 

“Perfect.” Bobby signed his part, and Crowley signed his. They both pushed papers over to Dean to sign next.

 

Crowley explained, as Dean hovered over the paper with his pen poised to sign. “This says I get a cut of the income from all joint albums and tours that you complete with Castiel.” Dean signed. “This dictates Bobby's cut of the profits.” Dean signed again. “Here’s the timeline for when each album is due.” Dean signed without reading, trusting Bobby to have his back. “And here you guarantee that you'll stay with Castiel's band for a minimum of one year even if you satisfy the tour and album agreement earlier.”

 

Dean paused before signing. “What if we just don't click?”

 

“You'll click,” Crowley said.

 

Bobby added, “One year is nothing. Normally these contacts require three years.”

 

Dean asked, “But didn't it say that we had to put together one album and complete two tours before either of us could be done with each other?”

 

“It did. What's your point?” Crowley asked.

 

“It's just that, no one could get through all of that in under a year. That's a three year job easy.”

 

Bobby sighed, “Dean, it's a good deal. If you need to get out of it, you'll just have to bust ass and write faster.”

 

Dean looked at Bobby, hoping to see any reason to keep from signing. Bobby nodded toward the contract. Dean signed. Crowley was grinning from ear to ear. Bobby was smiling back at him.

 

“Well, congratulations. Guess I'll be seeing a lot of you here.” Crowley got up, harshly pressing a button on his phone as he did so. “Megan,” he practically shouted. A short brown-haired woman came in almost immediately. “Take Mr. Winchester to the recording studio Cassie's using.”

 

“Cassie?” Dean asked.

 

“He hates when I call him that, so I guess that's why I do it.” Crowley was still grinning; it was eerie. “I'll keep Bobby company while you boys get acquainted.” Crowley waved him out the door.

 

They were halfway down the hall when his guide spoke. “Call me Meg. I hate my full name.”

 

Dean reached out and shook her hand. “Dean. Pleased to meet you, Meg.”

 

They'd stopped at a studio door with a red light glowing above, meaning someone was recording. “He's in there.” She pressed a long red nail to the door.”

 

“Think he'll be recording long?” Dean asked.

 

Meg smiled and said, “Oh, he's not recording, not one bit. Here's just pretending so none of us bother him.”

 

“Really?” Dean felt skeptical. “How do you know?” He leaned against the wall across from the door. Meg joined him.

 

“Funny story. You see, Crowley asked me to start pulling his recordings each day, around about three months ago. He thought something was up. I mean, a guy who spends that much time recording should have something to show for it, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said just to encourage the story.

 

“Well, this guy has exactly nothing. I thought maybe he was just transferring them and deleting the originals, but nope.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

Meg folded her arms in front of her chest. “Got a friend to check into it. Charlie's good. You don't question her work. She said if he's recorded anything, she'd have been able to retrieve it.”

 

“So, what's he doing in there then?” Dean asked as he pushed off the wall.

 

“Hell if I know.” Meg came to his side. “How long you wanna wait?”

 

“How long will it be?”

 

She just shrugged. “Hour, minutes. Really hard to know.”

 

Dean stood there for a full minute, feeling dumb. Finally he turned to Meg and said, “You can go. No sense in both of us waiting forever.”

 

“Well, okay then.” She started heading back and turned to face him as she walked backwards down the hall. “Good luck with him. He's a handful.”

 

“Thanks.” Dean waited until he was sure she was gone, and then, despite the red light telling him to stop, he opened the door.

 

 

Castiel sat still, shock at the interruption preventing words. Dean, for his part, wasn't saying anything either. It was the first time they'd laid eyes on each other in such close proximity in years.

 

Dean pushed the door closed behind him and just stood there in the doorway. Castiel chose to break the silence. “Guess no one respects the red recording light anymore.” _Shit._ He didn't intend the tone. It was too late to fix it though. He'd been surprised.

 

Dean took a solid step into the room. “You weren't recording.”

 

“The light was on. Last I checked, that means do not enter.” Castiel kept his eyes on Dean. He apparently couldn't be civil.

 

“You weren't recording,” Dean repeated.

 

“You don't know what I was doing. Do you always just barge into people's recording time?” This wasn’t how Castiel thought their reconnection would go. Actually he didn't think there would be a reconnection at all, but seeing Dean again did something to him. It stirred up past frustrations. Feelings that never got their release suddenly became petty irritants that drifted from his lips into the space between them.

 

Dean ignored the question, pulling over the rolling chair and took a seat. His sturdy legs bowed out in front of him. He leaned and braced his arms on his thighs, clasping his hands in front of him. Then he spoke. “How long were you going to make me stand out there, Cas?”

 

That old nickname. Castiel looked away. Dean's gaze was intense. “I didn't know you were there.”

 

“You knew I was coming to the studio today. You knew about the contracts being signed.” Dean looked confused, his forehead wrinkling up a little.

 

“I didn't know that.” Castiel looked around the room, then back at Dean. “I come here everyday.”

 

“Wait, you didn't know I was gonna be here today?” Dean tensed up.

 

Castiel knew he had selected Dean. He knew that Crowley liked to work fast, but he had no clue that Dean was going to be signing contracts before even a word was exchanged. “No, I think that Crowley has decided that I am on a need-to-know basis at present.”

 

Dean got up. He was angry. “I just signed a contract!” He looked like he was going to punch something. “We have to work together for a year, minimum!”

 

“I didn't realize that would happen. To be frank, I never believed you'd say yes. You were a safe pick.” Castiel sighed and added, “And yet, here we are.”

 

Dean took a few steps towards the door like he was going to leave. He wasn’t facing Castiel anymore.  His shoulders slumped. When he spoke, it was in a defeated tone. “So, you didn't want this.”

 

The door opened before Castiel could answer. Crowley and Bobby strolled in all chummy. “So you boys already making plans?”

 

“You tricked me,” Dean seethed.

 

“What are you talking about?” Crowley was all smiles.

 

Dean turned to Bobby, “You know about this?” He waved a hand behind him at Castiel. He wouldn't even turn to look at him. “You knew he didn't want me signing on with him?”

 

“That's news to me, kid.” Bobby's voice sounded sincere.

 

“Then this is your doing.” Dean glared at Crowley as he spoke.

 

“You were selected. You signed the contract. Welcome to your band.” Crowley threw his arms out at his sides.

 

“He doesn't want this. He didn't even know I was coming here today.” Dean was pointing behind him with each sentence.

 

“He knew enough.” Crowley turned to leave. “You two figure out your shit. Clock's a ticking. I get two tours and an album.” He got to the door and turned back to Dean. “I'll be seeing you here most days, I reckon. Castiel usually shows up at 8:00 am, don't you, Cassie?”

 

Castiel didn't respond. Crowley just left. Dean asked Bobby, “What do I do?”

 

Bobby moved past him to Castiel. He held out a hand. “Don't think we've met. Bobby Singer.”

 

Castiel snapped out of his shock and shook Bobby's hand. “I've heard a lot about you.”

 

Bobby let go of his hand and asked, “So, you mind explaining what's going on here?”

 

Castiel noticed how Dean still wouldn't face him. “I'm sorry.” Dean didn't turn around. “I'm sorry about that, Dean.”

 

Dean did turn around then. “I'm outta here.” He stormed out, slamming the door in his wake.

 

Bobby didn't follow him. Instead he repeated the question. “What's happening?”

 

Castiel slumped back into the seat. “I chose Dean, but I never really believed he'd say yes. He hates me. We haven't spoken in years. I had to pick someone. Crowley had me there. He said I had to be a band and not just a solo act. It's in my contact.”

 

Bobby hummed and came to the seat next to his. “And you told Dean all that?”

 

“Pretty much.”

 

“Dick move. Took a lot for him to accept the offer and then you just up and tell him you didn't mean it.” Bobby paused and then said again, “Dick move.”

 

“I see that now. I just...” Castiel raked his hands through his hair, messing it up thoroughly before finishing, “I was surprised.”

 

“Yeah, well I'm gonna have to do damage control.” Bobby got up and headed for the door. “So, does this mean you don't want to work with him?”

 

Castiel looked away. “I don't think I'd be any good for him. I'm not any good for myself.”

 

“Not an answer.” Bobby waited.

 

Castiel just stared at Bobby, hoping he wouldn't have to say it. He knew he had to answer. “I picked him.”

 

“Yeah, but you said it was because you thought he'd decline.”

 

“I did think that. But…”

 

“But?”

 

Castiel's hands were shaking. “We can try it.”

 

“Nope, he's not a charity case. He's Dean Fucking Winchester.” Bobby opened the door. “You don't think he's good enough to pick outright, then you don't deserve his time. I'd rather we eat the penalty that Crowley's little contract throws at us.”

 

Castiel got up then, crossed the room to stop Bobby leaving. This could be his out. He didn't want an out, at least not like this. “You're right. He's the most talented musician out there. I'd like to work with him.” How he got it all out in a steady voice was a miracle. Castiel felt like he was vibrating out of his skin.

 

“I don't know.” Bobby was really looking at him now, really assessing everything about him it seemed.

 

Castiel set a hand on Bobby's shoulder and said, “Please help me fix this. Let Dean know that it was a misunderstanding.”

 

Bobby was still fixing him with a squinty eyed stare fit to pin Castiel to the floor. Then he moved away from the door and to the chairs. Next to Castiel's chair was his notebook and pen. He used it to jot down lyrics or ideas. Bobby started flipping through it. Finding a blank page he stopped and picked up a pen. He was writing something.

 

“This here is Dean's address.” He lifted up the notebook and showed it to Castiel. “You're gonna go talk to him. You get to fix this.”

 

“I don't think he's gonna want that.”

 

Bobby pressed the notebook to Castiel's chest with some force. “He needs to hear it from you. So suck it up, and go make this right.” Bobby looked up at the clock on the wall. “Get there soon. He'll be drinking, and you need to fix this before he gets drunk.”

 

Castiel licked his lips and thought about how a drink would really help him at the moment. He took the notebook from Bobby and looked at the address. It wasn't far from the studio. There was a word under the address.

 

“What's this?”

 

“Poughkeepsie,” Bobby said. “That's what you say to security if you want to be let in. You're not on the list.”

 

Castiel tried to get his breathing into some sort of control. “I'll head out now.”

 

“Good.” This time Bobby committed to leaving. He was out the door in an instant.

 

Now that he was alone Castiel didn't want to leave, didn't want to face anyone. _What do I even say?_ He did leave though. He had to. The ride to Dean's place was too short. Castiel's mind was swimming in a sea of half formed apologies, excuses, and past reminiscences. _You have to do this. You have to do this._ He went into the building. It was like being on autopilot. He got into the elevator. The security guard that stood by the panel of numbers asked what floor he was going to.

 

Castiel said, “25th.” The guard waited for more. “Oh, uh, Poughkeepsie,” Castiel added.

 

The guard smiled and pushed the button. Castiel felt like he left his stomach at the bottom as the elevator rose. _Just breathe. Just breathe._

 

 

Dean sent another text to Bobby. This one was filled with even more anger than the last. He was pretty sure he was going to be seeing him at any moment. Bobby would try to talk him down. It was how he was. _I'm not going to be talked down. That was humiliating._ Dean was pacing back and forth in the hall by his door.

 

Dean closed his eyes. Castiel's eyes were there though, burning into him. “Fuck him.”

 

The doorbell rang.

 

Bobby had a key, but he likely wanted to be let in, given the situation. Dean was ready to let him have it. He yanked the door open. _Not Bobby. Shit. Not Bobby._ They each just stood there, Castiel staring straight into Dean's eyes. Dean felt his heart stutter. The silence went on too long.

 

Castiel took a step past the doorway. Dean unconsciously stepped aside to let him in. “Hello, Dean.”

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Castiel took another step into the room. It brought him closer to Dean. Dean sucked in a breath and said, “What, you didn't humiliate me enough at the studio? You want to bring round two to my house.”

 

Castiel walked past Dean into the living room. All of the shades were drawn, except for the one in the corner. The view of the high buildings and the distant street below would have been a selling point to most. Dean didn't like heights though, and he almost chose a less convenient location that was closer to ground level. Bobby was convincing, and now Dean lived in a place that gave him vertigo when he stepped too close to the windows.

 

Castiel stood in front of the window now, staring out at the midday traffic. “You're on top of the world here.”

 

“Why are you here?”

 

Castiel sighed, and his shoulders fell. It looked like he was resting his forehead on the glass. Dean felt sweat building up in his palms just watching him stand so close to that window, to a fall that couldn't happen.

 

Castiel cleared his throat and said, “Bobby said you'd be drinking by the time I got here.” Castiel turned away from the window and leveled his gaze on Dean.

 

“What?” Dean's voice rose an octave. Everything in his head was noise. Nothing made sense. _Why was he here?_

 

“I think we should drink copious amounts of alcohol.” He stepped toward Dean. “What do you have to drink?”

 

Dean shook his head. This wasn't making sense. He did walk to his liquor cabinet though. “I would have gone for the whiskey or the bourbon. Either of those appeal to you?”

 

“Whiskey.” Castiel's voice already had that rough quality of a whiskey drinker.

 

Dean poured two glasses half full. He had some whiskey stones in each that he pulled from his freezer. Dean held his glass up before drinking and said, “To reunions.”

 

Castiel clinked his glass to Dean's. “It could have gone better.” He seemed to be trying for a smile, but it was too rye. Castiel tipped back a swallow of the whiskey. “I told myself you wouldn't show. I was shocked.”

 

“Yeah, you said that.” Dean set down the glass on the kitchen counter and moved toward the hall. “Well, good getting caught up with you. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.”

 

“Dean.” There was a command in his voice. Dean turned back to the counter. “You signed the contract.”

 

“Yeah, thanks for that, buddy.” Dean let the sarcasm drip from every syllable.

 

“I mean...” Castiel set the glass down and raked his hands through his hair. In any other circumstance Dean would have appreciated the mess, maybe even indulged in open staring. Now though, he just felt irritated. “I mean we have to work together.”

 

“We really don't. I'm gonna get Bobby to work it out. I'll pay the fine or whatever.”

 

“You really hate me that much right now?”

 

“What's up with you?” Dean stalked back to the counter and drank down the last of the whiskey. “You basically said you didn't want this” Dean waggled his fingers between them. “Now you're here, drinking my whiskey and telling me that I signed a damn contract like I wasn't totally there for that shitshow.”

 

Castiel took the bottle of whiskey and refilled his glass. He looked from Dean's eyes to his glass and back. Dean pushed his own glass forward. Castiel filled it. “You know me, Dean. At least I'd like to think you still do.” He focused on the glass in front of him. He took another drink. “It's been hell. I lost all of them. They were the closest thing to family I'll ever have.”

 

Dean found his voice. “I am sorry about that. I really can't imagine.”

 

“Can't you, though?” Castiel was staring into his soul.

 

“I still have Sam. He may not be able to do the music thing anymore, but I'll take that. I'll definitely take that.”

 

“I'm glad you got him into rehab. How's he doing?”

 

Dean shook his head. This conversation was twisting him up. “He's doing good, really good. I'm proud of him.”

 

Castiel finished his second glass and refilled it. Dean wasn't ready for more yet. “I've been adrift since the accident. Crowley wanted another album and some tours. It's what I owed him per our contract.”

 

“So what? Is Crowley just planning to get that out of me instead?”

 

“No,” Castiel said. “He plans to get that out of us, and he will.”

 

“Explain.”

 

“I haven't recorded anything for over a year. I'm done. Crowley knew that.” Castiel sipped at his whiskey now.

 

“Not seeing how this connects to me.” Dean finished off his glass.

 

“He thinks I'll make the album if I'm tied to someone, to you. He knows I wouldn't want to screw you over.”

 

“You could have picked someone else though or not picked anyone.” Dean was feeling the warmth of his drink spreading through him.

 

“I had to pick someone. My contract made that clear. He wanted me to pick his son, Gavin.”

 

“Oh, that would've been…”

 

“Bad,” Castiel interrupted. Dean nodded. “Yeah, I couldn't see it. Picking you made sense. Crowley told me not to. I hate being told what to do. I'm not a fucking tool.”

 

“So you picked me because he told you not to and because you thought I'd say no?”

 

“At first, I didn't think about your response. You sent in the video.”

 

“Bobby sent it,” Dean interrupted.

 

Castiel just stared at him for a moment. “You had him send it?”

 

“Didn't know he was sending it. He told me after Crowley sent over the contract.”

 

“Damn.” Castiel settled into one of the stools at the counter. “So you didn't want this?” Castiel waved his fingers between them. Dean just shrugged, and the silence dragged out between them. “Then why'd you sign the contract?”

 

And that was the thing. There wasn't a truly safe answer, at least not one that wouldn't reveal more about Dean's head space than he was ready to share, ever. There was the truth that was Sammy though.

 

“I did it for Sammy,” Dean said, all low like he didn't want to admit it. Castiel was watching him as he said it.

 

“Explain.”

 

“When Bobby told me what he did, I was mad. I mean, he didn't know we had any past…” Dean looked away then added, “I never told him.”

 

“Of course you didn't. Some things never change.” There was a hint of disgust in Castiel's tone.

 

“Look, it wasn't like that. I just think that in this life, our kind of life, a little privacy is hard to come by. So you'll have to forgive me if I didn't want to share...that.” The pause sounded pointed.

 

Castiel gave Dean a half laugh, a little snort of derision. “Yeah, right, you just keep telling yourself that.” He laughed again. “Remember reading a story about your performance at Bellevue, at the adults-only club.”

 

“Yeah, so what?” Dean knew where this was going, but he was not going to let on that it bothered him.

 

“For a man that just wants his privacy, you sure share a lot. I saw some pictures too. Apparently some things are as I remember them.” He dragged his eyes down over Dean's body.

 

Dean looked away. He could feel the heat flooding his cheeks. “That's just performance. It's a persona.”

 

“Dropping your pants and underwear and yelling, ‘pudding,’ to the crowd? That's a performance?”

 

“Well, you don't see me doing that now, do you?”

 

Castiel just hummed. “Might be the only thing that could make this conversation more awkward.”

 

“You're the one who decided to come here and drink all my good whiskey.”

 

Castiel laughed again. “This isn't even your good stuff. The good whiskey is tucked in the back of that second shelf.”

 

Dean glanced back at the liquor cabinet. “So you saw that?”

 

“Yep,” Castiel popped the _P_ and went on. “Holding out on me like always.”

 

“Maybe you should go. I can call you a car” Dean reached for his phone.

 

Castiel grabbed his wrist and said, “Why'd you sign the contract?”

 

“I already told you, for Sam.”

 

“How is this for Sam?”

 

Dean tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “Bobby spelled it out for me. I don't have a band. They all felt like I betrayed Sam when I put him into rehab.”

 

“He literally died in front of you,” Castiel sounded appalled as he said it.

 

“Yeah, well they didn't begrudge the call to 911. They just didn't think the follow up was necessary.”

 

Castiel let go of Dean's wrist. Dean looked down at the spot. He felt less grounded. _Weird._ “They're fools then.”

 

“Maybe. Anyway, when Sam gets out, he's gonna wanna join up with me again, get the band back up and running. Bobby made it clear that he can't be in the life, too many temptations. He needs to really break away.”

 

“How would signing the contract keep him from starting the band up again?”

 

“He'd only do it for me, and if I was trying to make a go of it alone, he'd feel obligated. I've gotta have something new going for myself, something promising. This way, he doesn't worry, doesn't fall back into the life. It makes sense if you know him, know us.”

 

“You could've just told him you didn't want to work with him. You didn't have to tie yourself up to me.”

 

“True, but this way I really could be doing something new. I wouldn't have to lie to him.” Dean felt some relief saying it all.

 

Castiel pulled out his phone. He typed a bit then pocketed the phone again. He walked toward the door. “I'm heading out. I'll see you at the studio tomorrow, 8:00 am. Bring your guitar, the black one.”

 

“Baby?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You really want to do this?” Dean needed a _yes_.

 

“I really want to stop feeling like an asshole. In the event that doesn't happen, likely, I'm going to ask you to help me channel those feelings into a multi-platinum album and two tours. Think you can handle that, Mr. Winchester?”

 

Dean just stood there, mouth agape, before saying, “Well okay then. Go big or go home.”

 

“You don't have to like me to fulfill your contact. Hell, we could hate each other and make a real rager album. I don't care.” Castiel walked to the door and opened it. “See you tomorrow. Don't be late.” He closed the door behind him and was gone. Dean wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he did know that he was going to try. It didn’t matter if Castiel hated him. He was going to do this.

 

 

Castiel sat alone in the studio. It was 8:15, and Dean was not there. He was trying to be patient. It was eating away at him. He jotted down some thoughts in his notebook. _Maybe this will be a rager album._ He heard the door start to open and did his best to look busy. This was hard to do with just a guitar and a notebook. He wrote a couple of nonsense lines before looking up at Dean. “You’re late.”

 

Dean had coffee.

 

Castiel got up. “You’re forgiven.” He took one of the coffees. “For now.”

 

“Didn’t expect the line to be so long, then there were fans. Sorry.” He set down his guitar case and freed his own coffee from the carrier.

 

“Sit.” Castiel pointed at the chair across from him. He breathed in the steam of the coffee. It was full of cream. Someone with a heavy hand did this coffee up. He took a sip, and it was exactly the way he liked it. “Perfect.”

 

“You always did like too much cream and sugar.” Dean held his cup between two hands and watched him.

 

“Can’t believe you retained that.” Castiel drank down some more.

 

“So how we doing this?”

 

“I really don’t know. I’ve worked on some things, but nothing’s done.” Castiel flipped through his notebook. “My first song in here is the farthest along.”

 

“I’ve got a few things I’ve been working on, but nothing good. I’m afraid I got a little stale.” Dean took a sip of his coffee. “What if we just play some stuff together, see how we sound as a duo?”

 

“I’ve heard worse plans.” Castiel strapped on his guitar and plugged it into his amp.

 

Dean set aside his coffee and started fishing out his guitar. Castiel watched him. He was still toned and gorgeous. He bent to get a pick from the case. Castiel drank in the show that Dean didn’t even know he was giving. _Fuck. Get over it._

 

Dean stood back up and turned with the guitar hanging in front of him. “You got an amp for me to plug into?”

 

Castiel got him set up, and managed to distract himself in the process. “What should we play?”

 

“One of yours. Mine are all really Sam’s anyway.”

 

“I thought you co-wrote with him?”

 

Dean looked away. “Nah, he gave me too much credit sometimes. I threw some lyrics at him when he was stuck. I riffed some, and that made it into some final drafts. Mostly, I just let him take the lead. It’s why I haven’t written anything fully since…” Dean just let the sentence sit there.

 

“Well, I’ve got “Charger.” Castiel walked over to his case and rummaged around a little. He pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Dean. “These are the notes for it.”

 

“I know the song.” Dean waved away the sheet.

 

“Really?” Castiel tipped his head to the side and tried to read him. “I’m surprised.”

 

“It’s one of the best guitar pieces out there. Why wouldn’t I know it?” Then Dean just started playing. It was supposed to be a duet, but here Dean was running through the song at breakneck speeds. It was meant to be played fast. He knew Dean could play well. He’d watched him in a few YouTube videos and even live in recent years, though he’d never admit to that.

 

Castiel waited for the chorus and joined Dean’s playing. He didn’t sing. He just worked through the accompaniment. They sounded good together. Castiel wondered if it’d be the same if he took over the lead part, let Dean fall into playing the backup rhythm. Without warning Castiel just started playing the lead. Dean went with it. Castiel didn’t expect what happened next. Dean began singing. _He’s good, really good._ Castiel slowed down. He watched Dean’s hands as he went through the chords. He let his eyes drift to Dean’s face as he sang the familiar song.

 

They ended. The silence felt off. He didn’t want to speak though. It felt like it would break the spell. He wanted to forget that there were a whole bunch of stupid years that stood in between them. Dean spoke, and the moment ended. “We should do more of that. Do you always play the lead?”

 

“I like going where the song takes me.” Castiel started playing something quietly.

 

Dean watched Castiel’s hands as he played. “What’s this one you’re playing?”

 

“Something new. I don’t have lyrics yet, not really anyway.” Castiel played to the end, and Dean listened.

 

“I like it.” Dean smiled, and it was warm, genuine. “Maybe we should work on that one together, get some lyrics together.”

 

“Maybe.” Castiel set aside the guitar and picked up the acoustic that was leaning near him. He handed it over to Dean. “You mind playing that song that Bobby sent in?”

 

Dean took off his guitar and settled into the chair across from Castiel. He strummed the new guitar. “I’m still working on it. Not sure it’s going anywhere.” He sounded shy all of a sudden, this man who could play anything, who could make a crowd fall in love. _Dean Winchester, doesn’t think he’s good enough on his own._ It was an interesting realization. He just played “Charger” like it was nothing. Now, he was acting like a song he wrote was maybe garbage. Castiel had heard it, and it wasn’t garbage, not even close.

 

“Play it.”

 

Dean started playing, but he didn’t sing. He got to the end and set the guitar aside. “You see, still needs work.”

 

“You didn’t sing. Why?”

 

“I,” Dean began. “He sent you the video with the vocals?” He looked nervous now.

 

“Yes.” Castiel nodded at the guitar. “Can I hear it again with the vocals?”

 

“I don’t think good enough to bother with. I mean, it’s just not ready.” Dean got up and started pacing.

 

“It was stunning. Play it.” Castiel got up and handed him the guitar again.

 

Dean just stood there. “Why you wanna hear it so bad?”

 

“I liked it.” Castiel sat back down again. “It’s also the only song between the two of us that is even close to being done.”

 

Dean hesitated. “Okay then.” Dean started playing again. When he began singing, his voice was low and gravely. Castiel thought he sounded a little like Tom Waits. Castiel followed the lyrics better this time. They were about someone that was alone, someone that lost everything. It felt relatable. Then, it felt deeply personal. Then he started wondering if there were questions he should ask about the inspiration.

 

The song ended. Dean launched right into talking. “See, it’s not really polished.”

 

“Shut up.” Castiel closed his eyes and let his mind wander over the lyrics that he could retain. “It was perfect. One song down, ten or so to go.”

 

“You don’t have to kiss my ass,” Dean huffed out.

 

“I’m the last person that would kiss your ass. The song was perfect.” Castiel stood and began playing a few chords on his guitar to keep Dean from saying anything else that sounded stupid or self-deprecating.

 

“Well, let’s hear one of yours then,” Dean finally said.

 

“None of them are done. I think I’ve been avoiding endings so I didn’t have to share them with Crowley.”

 

“So none of your songs end?”

 

“Endings are hard.” Castiel sat back down and started playing a soft song. “Like this one starts off fine,” Castiel said as he started slowly amping up the pace. He started singing about some guy he was going to kill. It was one of his creepy, rager pieces.

 

When he ended abruptly, Dean started clapping. “That fucking rocked.”

 

“Asshole.”

 

“What the fuck, man? That song is legit awesome. It shouldn’t have a straight ending. The guy dies and that song does too. It should just slam into the end, just like that.”

 

“Well, I hadn’t intended that. I was just being lazy.”

 

“I’d hate to see you when you’re focused then,” Dean laughed.

 

“You have seen me focused,” Castiel murmured.

 

Dean cleared his throat and said, “Let’s play something together, just to get used to each other some more.” And that was how they spent the rest of their day. They played one song after the next. Sometimes they sang, and other times they just rolled through the chords. It was strangely relaxing. It was also easy falling into each other’s patterns. When they ended in the afternoon with quiet _goodbyes,_ and Castiel’s gravely _see you tomorrow_ , it felt like old friends leaving each other.

 

 

They kept meeting in the studio, and they even came up with a sort of pattern. They practiced one of Dean’s songs first. Next, they’d practice one of Castiel’s half finished pieces. They worked on endings for Castiel’s songs, which took up the lion’s share of the time. It was tedious work, but progress was being made.

 

The difficult part was the way that the work space had changed for Castiel. He’d been coming into the studio everyday since the accident. It was a place that afforded him quiet and peace without total isolation. There were people just outside of the space, and still, there was the quiet that he craved. He and his band had spent so much time in this space. He remembered the good-natured ribbing he’d taken from Uriel so many times over the years in this studio. Those were good times. They were part of those first years when everything was new and exciting.

 

Castiel let his mind linger on those old memories. It was different with Dean, very different. He told himself that Dean hated him. He wasn’t so sure that was true anymore. He was sure that in time, it could be true. He’d managed to make Uriel, Luc, and Anna hate him. This thing with Dean was not forged in the same way. They came together out of necessity. They were working in tandem with each other. Castiel wasn’t leading them, at least he didn’t think he was.

 

And therein was part of the difference. When Luc had announced that they were kicking him out of the band, it was in part because they didn’t like his leadership, his ‘crazy, overbearing drive.’ He understood now, where he’d gone wrong. No one could have continued under that sort of schedule, practice and writing everyday, constant touring, late nights, and early mornings. He only had this life. It made sense for him.

 

He and Dean had been in the studio everyday for the past two weeks. Castiel worried for a moment that this was how it would start, the slow fall toward him being the tyrannical overlord he’d been before. Dean seemed happy though, for now.

 

That was something too. Dean seemed very happy, but not just that, he seemed to be very comfortable. Castiel found himself drifting closer as they played their songs. He found himself too close a few times, and Dean would lean away and just look at him until he backed off. They didn’t talk about it. It just was how things went, a quiet pull of gravity that kept sucking him back into Dean’s orbit.

 

_Been there, done that. Time to get a little distance, recenter._

 

Castiel pulled out his phone and called Dean. It was barely 6:00 am. Dean would not be awake. The phone went to voicemail just like he’d hoped it would. “Hello, Dean. This is Castiel. I’m not going into the studio today. I think I need a change of scenery. I’m going to work at home out of my studio.” He pulled the phone back from his ear and stared at it like he was considering saying more. Instead, he just hung up.

 

He went through the motions of getting ready like he was still going to head out to the studio. He got dressed in his more comfy clothes though, loose fitting sweat pants, and a faded band t-shirt. He wandered into his studio with a small bowl of cereal that he ate as he walked. The room wasn’t an actual studio in the strictest sense of the word. You couldn’t record anything in there, but there were plenty of instruments and lots of seating.

 

The band had done a tour in India and parts of Southeast Asia. While there, Castiel bought all of the furniture that made up the feel of the room. There was the blue and gold puffy couch, the round blue ottoman style chairs, the large intricately patterned rug. The piano that sat at the corner had a large, some would say too ornate, candelabra perched on its lid. He’d bought it in a small shop outside their hotel in Bangkok. Everything had called to him. The piano was something else. It was not from the band’s travels. It was Anna’s. After the accident, her husband said that she wanted him to have it. She’d planned to send it to him after the break up. She just hadn’t gotten the opportunity. He’d also told Castiel other things, things about how she felt, the regrets. It didn’t help.

 

The buzzer for his gate shocked him out of his reminiscence. No one ever came to his home. He walked to the security monitor and looked at the large black car humming away at the gate. Castiel pushed the intercom. “Dean?”

 

Dean leaned out the window a little with a cup of coffee. He smiled in that way that was so broad and genuine. “You gonna let me in? I got coffee.”

 

“I, uh, yeah.” Castiel pushed the button to open the gate. He walked past the large mirror in the hall and gave himself a quick once over. “Shit. I look like shit.” He tried to fix his hair, which was a messy mop of unstyled glory. He gave up and stalked toward the door. He decided to meet Dean on the porch, question his life choices, then retreat back into the sanctity of his home, maybe with Dean’s coffee.

 

Dean was already getting out of his car and walking up to the front door, with two coffees in a carrier. “You in need of coffee?”

 

“Haven’t gotten to the coffee stage yet, so yes.” Castiel reached out and pulled the coffee free from the holder. “Why’d you drive all the way out here to bring me coffee?”

 

Dean looked confused, eyebrow jutting up toward his hairline. “Thought we were getting a change of scenery.”

 

Castiel processed that for a minute. “Oh.” He took a step back. “I didn’t think you were interested in that. I was just talking about me. I meant that I needed to just stay home for a day.”

 

“Oh.” Now things were awkward. Dean looked like he was gearing up to leave, and suddenly Castiel didn’t want that. “I’ll just be…”

 

“Come in,” Castiel interrupted.

 

“Nah, I…”

 

“Get your ass in here.” Castiel walked back into his house so there could be no argument. He called back over his shoulder, “Close the door on your way in.”

 

He heard the door close and smiled as he walked to the studio. It was nice to be obeyed. He shook that thought free. “Looks like you did some redecorating,” Dean mused as they walked.

 

“Yeah, it has been ten years.” They walked into the studio.

 

Dean sucked in an audible breath. “This is nice. You didn’t have all this stuff last time I was here.” Dean walked around the room, peering at the various pictures on the shelves. The row of guitars got some extra attention. “Shit, is this?” Dean pointed at one of the electric guitars.

 

“Yeah, bought it at auction. Paid through the nose for it. Makes sense though. No regrets.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Yeah, shit.” They both laughed.

 

It got quiet. They both skated around the past like it was dangerous. There was no talking about it if they were going to make this work. Castiel stared at him though and wanted to talk about it. This room, them, the time that seemed like a giant chasm between then and now. He just wanted to understand how they could have gotten to this place.

 

Dean walked to the piano. He sat and wedged his coffee cup between his legs. Castiel appreciated how he didn’t just set it on the beautifully polished lid. Others would have. Dean began playing something soft. It was familiar.

 

“What song is that?” Castiel asked.

 

Dean hesitated, stopped playing, then started up again. “Really?” He looked to Castiel then back at the keys. “How do you not know this?”

 

Castiel just listened until it clicked, then he felt dumb. “Ah,” he said. Dean started the song over. Castiel came to the piano bench and sat at his side. He wasn’t sure why he did that. It just made everything so much more intimate. He doubled down though, and he started singing a few lines into the song. “Maybe I’m amazed at the way you pulled me out of time// and hung me on the line// Maybe I’m amazed by the way I really need you.”

 

He sang through to the end. He didn’t look at Dean as he sang. That would be too much. He had some control at least. This moment was testing that control though. Dean played out the last notes and let the piano go quiet. “You ever think about maybe adding a cover song or two to the mix?”

 

Castiel finally looked at him. “Huh?”

 

“A cover song. Weezer just did that whole cover album thing. Figured maybe we could throw in a cover or two on our album.”

 

“Pretty sure we can’t get the rights to anything by McCartney without going broke.”

 

“It’d be worth it. You sounded great on this one.” Dean looked away. He played a few notes and then added, “I might have a way to get the rights. Sam and Paul are friends. They bonded over animal rights or something at an event he attended a few years ago. Sam went full vegan, and started doing all of these events. He might be able to talk Paul into a little friendly deal.”

 

“I wouldn’t say no to that. I won’t hold my breath though.” Castiel got up. The closeness was making him nervous. He immediately regretted the loss of warmth at his side, the lack of presence that Dean’s solid form offered. “Let’s work on ‘Careful’. Dean got up and walked over to the guitars.

 

“Can I borrow one for today?” He waved his hand in front of the various choices.

 

“Borrow the Hendrix. You know you want to.” Castiel smiled at him. “Besides, it’ll sound great with the song.” They’d been working on ‘Careful’ a little during every session. It was one of Castiel’s half-finished pieces. They’d decided that Dean would take lead vocals on it while Castiel took up the lead guitar. He’d been working on the lyrics here and there, but couldn’t nail down an end.

 

Dean started playing through the chorus, just getting a feel for the new guitar. His whole demeanor seemed to lighten up as he played. Dean was talented. There was no doubting that. Castiel had been an admirer even long before they’d met in person.

 

Castiel got his own guitar out and hooked it up to the amp. Dean was still enjoying his random playing. “We gonna really do this?” Castiel asked, smiling over at him.

 

“Ready when you are,” Dean said, smiling back.

 

They started playing it together, and Dean crooned out the lyrics like they were meant for him. Maybe they were. Castiel was hard pressed to think of a single song he’d written in the last ten years that didn’t have a bit of Dean in the mix. It was something he told himself that he'd never admit, but in his heart, he knew the truth. Castiel was working through the song, without even noticing that they’d gotten to the part without lyrics. Dean was still singing though. Castiel tuned back into him.

 

Dean was singing, eyes closed like it was all his song now. His body swayed through the highs and lows. He was feeling it. Castiel was feeling it too. They got to the end. “When’d you write an end for me?”

 

“I didn’t,” Dean stammered. “I mean, I didn’t realize I had. I was just spitballing some stuff.”

 

“Well, I like it.”

 

“You don’t have to. It’s your song.”

 

Castiel laughed and said, “No, it’s not.” Dean looked concerned. Castiel added, “It’s our song.”

 

“Oh,” Dean said, all low and strangely shy. “I only threw in a few lines. It’s just like what I do with Sammy. It’s nothing.”

 

“Is this how you always are?” Castiel waited for an acknowledgement. Getting none he added, “Do you really not see how talented you are?”

 

“I can play. I’m damn good at that,” Dean admitted.

 

“And your lyrics are perfect. So far everything you’ve thrown down, has been brilliant. I’m almost ashamed to be putting my name on any of this. What’s making this all good is your contribution.” Somehow in the midst of his praise, Castiel had drawn closer to Dean.

 

Dean looked nervous. His eyes focused on the floor in front of him. He started to play again, but Castiel knew why. Dean was just trying to end the praise. So, Castiel lifted a hand and settled it over Dean’s, stopping the song where it was. “I’m not good at taking that kind of compliment stuff.”

 

“I’m not shining you on. I mean it.”

 

Dean shrugged, “Doesn’t matter. Still not good at accepting that sort of thing.”

 

“Sorry. People should have told you before that you were amazing. I’m sure they all tell you it now. You got the ticket sales to prove it. And surely you’ve noticed that people like you.”

 

“That’s different.” He sounded so quiet now, not like the Dean that was all bravado and confidence. Castiel’s hand was still on his.

 

“How’s it different?” He let his thumb sweep a gentle arc over the back of Dean’s hand.

 

“I know you. Those people, the ones buying the tickets and yelling my name, they’re just strangers. It’s just not the same. Sammy was all the talent. He got me here. His talent dragged my ass through late night clubs and gigs in malls. There was no way I was ever gonna be anything on my own. He got me there. And now that I’m there, here, I know what made it happen, and it wasn’t me.”

 

“Pretty sure he’d disagree,” Castiel said, voice quiet and firm.

 

“Pretty sure you’re right.” Dean finally looked up at him and added, “But I know what I am. And I’m not the front man. I’m not the guy that writes the songs that go platinum. I’m the guy that helps hold the team together for as long as he can.”

 

“You’re more than that, but that’s a lot too.”

 

Dean stepped aside and put the guitar back on its stand. He unhooked the amp and coiled up the cable. “When Sammy was gone, the band broke up. I wasn’t enough to hold them together, and frankly they didn’t want to work with me if Sam was out of the picture.”

 

Castiel came back to his side again, like everything was just pulling him right up to him. “Thought we already established that they were idiots.”

 

“Yeah, well. I’m just saying that I’m not what you’re saying. I’m not that special.”

 

“Then why is it that every song I’ve ever written since I met you has been about you? Why is it that such a completely ordinary, not-so-very-special man, has managed to fuck with my entire song catalogue so thoroughly?”

 

Dean just stared at him. That was shock on his face. Yes, total shock. Castiel started to shake. He hadn’t meant to throw out so much honesty. It was not what he’d ever intended. He was fine with Dean thinking that the past ten years were just fine for him. He was fine with Dean thinking that leaving was easy. _Fuck. This is not what he needs._

 

“Cas,” Dean started. It was a question. And now he was in Castiel’s space. “What do you mean?”

 

Castiel pulled himself together. “I mean, fuck you, you stupid ass. You’re plenty talented. Now come eat lunch with me so we can finish writing that dumb ass song you shared the other day.”

 

“The donkey song?” Dean asked.

 

“Yeah, that one. Our album is too depressing. We need one light piece in the mix. Why not a dumb song about donkeys?”

 

“Okay then,” Dean said.

 

Castiel stomped off toward the kitchen, hoping Dean would follow along without much encouragement.

 

 

Dean sat on one of the stools that were at the counter while Castiel made grilled cheese sandwiches. Dean's mind was running down alley ways toward the past only to retreat back to the present.

 

_Every song?_ There were some that made sense, songs about anger and disappointment. The idea that Castiel put out album after album with Dean on his mind didn't make sense. Maybe one album, two tops.

 

“Cas,” Dean said. It sounded like a question again. Cas wasn't looking at him. He was fully focused on his cooking, or at least pretending to be. After all, how much does one really need to focus on grilled cheese?

 

“How many of these will you eat?” Cas finally looked at him. His eyes held a nervousness.

 

“I'll take four.”

 

Cas turned back to the sandwiches and focused again on the cooking. Dean wasn't sure how to get the conversation going. He'd spent a fair number of years avoiding conversations, not starting them. “You want soup too?” Castiel interrupted his thoughts again.

 

“Sure.” Castiel started setting up a soup pot. He got out one of those box soups that come from the Whole Foods back in the city. Soup wasn't complicated. Dean decided to try an actual question. “So you really must hate me then?” He kept his tone light so as not to scare him off.

 

That got Cas’ attention. “What in the world are you talking about?”

 

“You said every song was about me. That means ‘Crushed’ was about me.” Dean let his tone go a little more serious. “You hated the person you were singing about in that song.”

 

“I don't hate you. That song is about me.” Castiel turned back to the sandwiches and pulled them off of the grill. They were a little dark. “Can we not?”

 

“You started it.” Dean really sounded like a whiny child.

 

Castiel let a small laugh out at that. “Really?”

 

“You said he needed to be crushed,” Dean started in again. “He could die beneath the weight of his choices.” Dean signed. “That's totally me, dude.”

 

“Dean, you might be the only one in the world that thinks that's you. Everyone who heard the song believed it was about me feeling guilty for,” Castiel made air quotes now, “breaking up with Sabel.”

 

“Yeah, way to rebound.” Dean looked away, remembering how angry he had been at the time. “Thought you were gay.”

 

Castiel tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “Still trying to label me. After all these years.” Castiel let out a frustrated gust of air. “I'm not, nor have I ever been attracted to a person's biology. Their gender doesn't matter to me. I'm attracted to the person.”

 

“So Sabel was a step up.” Dean didn't care about Sabel, yet here he was. Actually he did care, but there were far more pressing questions to be dealt with.

 

“I didn't even know we were dating. I thought we were friends. The press followed us. They filled the rags with all the usual speculation. It was so silly to me. I didn't bother to correct it. I thought we were on the same page until she tried to kiss me. Some paparazzi caught the moment that I pushed her away.”

 

“Ah, the infamous break up pic,” Dean said.

 

“Yeah, that.” Castiel began finishing up the last of the sandwiches. The soup still had a ways to go before it was warm enough. “So, it was awkward. I felt like an ass. I wrote ‘Crushed’ then, because I felt like I was hurting people left and right. It wasn't about hurting just her though. You were in my head then too.”

 

“Hmm, so you were blaming yourself for what happened with us?”

 

“Always.” Castiel gave the soup a stir. Dean silently considered. Castiel continued, “I wasn't wrong. I just know I could have handled things so much better. I know now that I maybe could have been a little more understanding.”

 

Dean let out a little snort of a laugh. “Yeah, you don't say.”

 

Castiel looked at him, brow raised. “Yeah.” He turned to the soup and started filling a couple of bowls he'd pulled down from the shelf. “You almost got married.”

 

Dean tried to find the bridge to that comment. “Yeah.” Castiel slid a soup bowl to him. The sandwiches were untouched on a plate near him. Castiel didn't join Dean. He kept the counter between them. “Clearly, that didn't work out.”

 

“What went wrong?”

 

“She wasn't you.” And that admission wasn't intended, but it was truth. “Dark hair, witty, kind, still not what I wanted at the time. Guess we both rebounded.”

 

“I didn't rebound,” Cas said. He turned back to the empty pans. With nothing to focus on, Dean thought that he'd turn back, that they'd talk this out. It had been ten years after all.

 

“You wrote, ‘The Taste of You.’ Dean got up and rounded the counter. Castiel gripped the edge of the counter but didn't turn to Dean. The moment felt thick with potential. Dean licked his lips and moved closer.

 

Ten years ago, he'd stood in this kitchen. Ten years ago Castiel had moved into his space, crowded him up against that very counter, challenged everything Dean thought he knew about himself. Ten years ago Dean fell, and he'd been a broken excuse of a man since. He ruined good things before they even got started. He regretted so much.

 

He stepped closer. He wondered how many more mistakes he'd get the chance to make right now. Castiel had to know he was there, right behind him. Dean sucked in a deep breath and pressed himself to Castiel's back. Dean lightly set his hands on the backs of Castiel's hands. He breathed, his head hovering just over Castiel's shoulder. Dean's lips were near Castiel's ear.

 

Dean dragged his fingers up Castiel's arms to the space just below his shoulders. He gripped Castiel's arms there. He was still just as firm and muscular as Dean remembered. “Do you remember the last time we were in this kitchen?”

 

Castiel nodded. Dean let his lips graze over the rim of Castiel's ear. He let out a small breath. He felt Castiel shake in his grip. Dean dipped his head a little, bringing his lips to Castiel's jawline. He kissed the line of his jaw so slightly that Castiel could maybe claim that it wasn't a kiss at all. If Castiel wanted to stop this, wanted to step aside and end this, whatever this was or could be, Dean would accept that. At least he told himself that he would.

 

Castiel breathed out a shaky little word, “Dean.”

 

Dean pressed in closer. He let go of Castiel's arms to wrap his own arms around Castiel's upper body. “You wrote, 'I Want You Back.’” Dean kissed down into Castiel's neck just a little. “You sang about how profound it was, how being with me was like sparks behind your eyes burning out sleep, or some shit.”

 

Castiel said, “I did.” It was something. Dean pressed a much more solid kiss into Castiel's skin, a reward for his use of words.

 

“You wrote, ‘Carved Your Name Into My Skin’. It was on your last album.” If all of the songs were about him, as Castiel said, then that one was maybe the most telling.

 

A small, almost sad voice, whispered out the beginning of the song. “There's nothing left, no base desires…” Castiel's voice shook and he stopped.

 

Dean took over. “You carved your name into my skin…” Dean held the note just like Castiel would have if he'd been on stage. It was a quieter rendition though.

 

And Castiel delivered the next line, “Left me to burn upon the prye.”

 

Dean delivered the next line over the note Castiel was holding, blending with him like they'd planned this. “I should have known you'd take the out…” And now Dean's voice shook a little. He didn't hold the note. He knew this was about him now. Castiel had rejected him all those years ago, but it wasn't rejection, if this song was to be believed. It was a choice that Castiel had given him.

 

Castiel wrapped up the chorus with, “I should have given you a better route. I should have made you see the way. You were deep inside of me. I still crave the weight of you in my arms.” Castiel turned, and sang the last lines facing Dean, whose arms still held him. “Let me again claim your perfect sin, carve your name again into my skin.”

 

Dean let the notes linger on the air between them for one more heartbeat before he pressed in and claimed Castiel's mouth. “Cas,” escaped from his lips before they came together. Dean was still surprised Castiel didn't push him away. He was still waiting for the inevitable. There had to be rejection. Every time he'd ever imagined this, it always ended with Castiel drawing away, making the distance loom up between them again.

 

“Dean, god, oh god,” Castiel breathed out as Dean began kissing down his throat. “Dean, Dean,” Castiel's vocabulary devolved. Dean felt encouraged.

 

“You missed me. You didn't hate me.” Dean kept kissing whatever skin was nearest his lips.

 

Castiel reached out and took Dean's face in his hands. He angled his face so their eyes were locked on one another. “I never hated you. I don't know how to make you believe that.” He closed his eyes. Dean focused on the little flutter of Castiel's eyelashes. “I haven't touched anyone since you.”

 

The weight of the confession sat heavy between them. Dean sucked in a breath and held it. Castiel opened his eyes. “It's been ten years,” Dean said.

 

“I'm painfully aware of that.” Castiel dipped his head and closed his eyes.

 

Now Dean reached out and took Castiel's face in his hands, angling him so he had to meet Dean's gaze. “Ten years is a long time to wait.”

 

Castiel laughed, a small, pitiful laugh. “We didn't want the same things. Doesn't change the fact that I only ever wanted you. It was you or no one.”

 

“Cas.” Dean let his thumb brush an arc over Castiel's cheek. Castiel mirrored the move on Dean. “What now?”

 

“We should stop.” Dean's heart stuttered in his chest. “We should talk about whether or not things have changed, if this,” Castiel waved his hand between them, “could be okay.” He sucked in a breath and then added, “But I don't want to do that right now. All I want is to feel you, taste you, fuck you into my mattress.”

 

Dean smiled and said, “I can let you do that.”


	2. Ten Years Ago, You Liked Me Just Fine

Cali Fest was huge, and getting offered the spot between Jo's Badass Band and Fallen was something that Dean couldn't seem to wrap his head around. Even as they stood outside their tour bus while their gear was being unloaded, Dean still said for the hundredth time, “Sammy, how?”

 

Sam clapped him on the back and pulled him into a sideways hug. “Still a mystery.”

 

They'd been doing pretty well in the last year. Their album went platinum, they had a sold out tour, they'd all upgraded their living situations. Somehow though, this was the moment that made it all real to Dean.

 

He watched the million tiny movements as so many crews were setting things up. The festival was impressive. Everything was planned out so precisely that Dean still felt his heart beating with the _go, go, go_ rush that propelled him out of their hotel room.

 

“Mr. Winchester,” a small, freckle faced young guy said.

 

“Yeah,” Dean said with a smile. The guy looked spooked. “What's wrong?”

 

“We can't find your guitar.” The guy took a noticeable step back, like he thought that Dean was going to deck him.

 

Sam spoke up for him. “All our gear was packed into that Ryder truck over there. You get it all unloaded?”

 

“Yeah, it's all out and there's no guitar.” The guy was wearing a headset and holding a clipboard. “They pulled out the white electric for Sam, the red and grey bass for Ruby, and the drums and keyboards. We've even gotten all the rest out, mics and lights. His guitar isn't in there.”

 

Sam turned to him. “Did you put it on the tour bus, Dean?”

 

Dean thought back. He was at home. He had packed. He had the guitar out on his bed. He'd played some songs the night before to get ready. “Shit. I think I left it on my bed.” Dean raked his hands through his hair. He turned to the guy who looked slightly less spooked.

 

Before he could answer a low voice inserted itself into the conversation. “You guys the Winchesters?”

 

Dean turned to the voice and almost started hyperventilating. He knew he'd likely run into them, being that the Winchesters were the lead in to Fallen, but he hadn't really prepared for the inevitable. “You're Uriel.” Dean remembered to breathe. He stuck out his hand and said, “Yeah, we're the Winchesters. I'm Dean.” They shook hands. Dean tipped his head towards Sam. “This here's Sam.”

 

After the pleasantries, Uriel addled, “So you need a guitar?”

 

“Yeah, guess I'm a bit forgetful.”

 

“Well, you might be in luck. Castiel packs a back up guitar for his back up guitar. Pretty sure he'd loan you one.”

 

“Sam!” There's was a small redhead making her way past the crews. “Gonna need your input on the staging again.”

 

“Duty calls,” Sam said. “You got this?”

 

“Yeah, go. I'll meet up with you in a bit.” Dean was shaking with anticipation. He was about to borrow Castiel's guitar. The guy was a legend.

 

“Follow me,” Uriel said as he started snaking his way past the throngs of people pulling out gear and setting up five million things at once. Dean could hear Jo crooning through her most popular song, ‘Slam Another One Down.’ The crowd was eating it up.

 

“Thanks again man. I'm pretty sure Jo would let me borrow from them, but I hate to hold her up after this performance.”

 

“Sounds like the crowds are happy.” Uriel flashed a smile. “You look out there yet?” Dean shook his head. He didn't want to know what he was about to face. “It's a bit of a mess. The rains soaked the ground good. Everyone is a muddy mass of bodies. Looks like Woodstock out there.”

 

“At least they're having fun.”

 

“For now. Be glad we're going early. It'll be different for tomorrow's performers.” They got to a long black bus with the band's name written in flowing, purple script along the side. “Home sweet home.” Uriel opened the bus door and looked back at Dean over his shoulder. “Mind waiting here a sec? Anna might be changing in the back where the guitars are.”

 

“No problem.” Uriel went onto the bus, leaving the door open. Dean could hear the added voices of two others.

 

Soon enough a body filled the doorway. Castiel. Dean would recognize him anywhere. He wasn't fully clothed. He was wearing some loose fitting linen pants that hung from his hips by some miracle. He was shirtless. He stepped down just one step then gripped the top of the door frame. He leaned his naked torso out of the bus. “So, I hear you need a guitar.”

 

 _Fuck that voice._ Dean had secret fantasies about that voice, fantasies that were all well and good when he wasn't going to meet the speaker. Dean considered the look of Castiel in that moment. He looked a bit like Jim Morrison. Dean wondered if he would be wearing this outfit on stage. Suddenly, Dean realized that he was meant to speak, but instead, time just ticked on by.

 

“I'm sorry, I,” Dean started then moved forward and held out his hand. “I'm Dean Winchester.”

 

Castiel let one hand come down from the door frame to shake Dean's. “Castiel.” And then he winked, at Dean.

 

“Uriel said you might be able to help me out.” Dean was proud of himself for his use of words. _Hell, it was a real sentence. Keep it together, just like that._

 

A woman appeared at his side in barely a slip of a silk robe. _Anna_. “Now Cassie, you're intimidating the boy. Let him in.” She reached past Castiel and beckoned Dean into the bus. “I'm Anna. Please come on in.”

 

“Yeah, welcome to our little den of iniquity.” Castiel and Anna backed into the bus to make room. Dean took the steps into the bus tentatively.

 

Anna had already taken a seat next to Uriel, who was playing a guitar. Castiel was at the back of the bus in yet another doorway, presumably to the room containing the guitars. As Dean drew closer to the back of the bus, his eyes fell on the guitar Uriel was playing. “Whoa, that's a ‘43 Gibson.”

 

Uriel stopped playing for a moment. “Sure is. You know your guitars.”

 

Dean's hands itched to touch it. These guitars were rare and kind of stunning. It was a huge guitar, but somehow it looked right in Uriel’s hands.

 

Castiel interrupted the moment. “Pretty sure Uriel won't be loaning out his Gibson Girl.”

 

Uriel laughed. “Not in a million years.”

 

Dean turned back to Castiel and was directed into the back room. Castiel pulled the door to the space closed. This was an impressive bus. The room he was standing in was part bedroom, part dressing space. There were clothes on the bed and a cabinet on the left wall that ran floor to ceiling. “They're in the cabinets.” Castiel pushed a button that opened them up.

 

“Whoa,” Dean breathed out in awe. The first cabinet revealed a bright white and gold Fender.

 

“That's my Caddy. Been playing her since the first album started selling. Spent more money buying her than I'd ever thought I'd have.” Castiel brushed his fingers over her reverently.

 

“She's a beaut.”

 

“'Fraid you can't borrow her. I'm going to need to have her ready for our set, which is right after your set.”

 

“I wouldn't have assumed.” Dean came down to a squat though to admire her up close. He touched the frets gently.

 

Castiel directed his attention to the next cabinet. In it was a smaller red and green Fender. It was unique. The topmost portion swirled up into, not flames so much, but more like something Dr. Seuss might have called flames or maybe trees. “This one hadn't been used much. We performed last year during the holidays and she seemed like she'd be a festive addition.”

 

Dean reached in and lifted the guitar. Castiel plugged the guitar into a nearby amp and flicked on the switch. Dean gave the guitar a few tentative strums. It sounded good, but it felt wrong in his grasp. “It's certainly unique.”

 

Castiel unplugged him and set the guitar back in it's space. In the last cabinet was a much more traditionally shaped guitar. It was black and chrome, sleek and unpretentious. It was beautiful. “I've never used this one in concert. I think she's been waiting for you.” Castiel gave him a wink again. Dean's heartbeat kicked up, on account of the guitar he was about to handle. Castiel picked it up and plugged it in. He passed it to Dean.

 

Dean held the guitar gently at first. “Reminds me of my Baby.”

 

Castiel laughed. “You got a kid?”

 

“Uh, no. My car. She's a ‘67 Chevy Impala. Black and chrome, just like this.” Dean started playing. He didn't mean to pick his silliest song, but he did, 'Brass Knuckle Bar Fight.’

 

Castiel sat on the bed, grinning ear to ear as Dean played. When Dean finished, Castiel said, “I love that song. I remember the first time I heard it, in a bar, by the way. Uriel threatened to knock me on my ass if I didn't stop singing it.”

 

“Wait, you know my music?” Dean's voice was high with shock.

 

“If course I know your music. I don't live under a rock.” Castiel got up and moved closer. “You're a real talent.”

 

“Nah, just lucky. My brother is the real talent.” Dean looked away.

 

Castiel set a hand on his shoulder. “I've heard you play. Do you really not know how good you are?”

 

Dean just shrugged, not sure how to respond. “So, this one?” Dean let his gaze drop to the guitar he was holding.

 

“Seems like a match made in heaven.” Castiel gave his shoulder a final squeeze, then unplugged the guitar from the amp. “You better get moving. Jo's gonna be done soon.”

 

Dean started walking out of the room. It felt more like floating. Uriel and Anna were singing a quiet duet as Dean and Castiel passed them. Castiel followed him all the way out to ground level. “Should I just come back to your bus afterwards to return her?”

 

“No, they'll be hustling you out of here by then, and my bus gets locked up while we perform. Safety reasons.”

 

“Oh, so what should I do…”

 

“They putting you up at the Ranch?” The Ranch was the isolated hotel a few miles down the road. It had its own airstrip and a price point that guaranteed a certain wealthier clientele.

 

“Yeah, even got an honor bar.”

 

“Us too. You staying tonight?” Castiel was rocking back onto his heels. Jo's music and the cheers of the crowd created a backdrop to the moment that felt kind of perfect.

 

“We weren't gonna stay, but I convinced the band that it'd be nice to have a real bed under us before hitting the road.”

 

“Good thinking.” Castiel licked his lips and drew closer. “You could return it at the Ranch then.”

 

“Where will I find you?” Before Castiel could answer though, Dean said, “I really owe you. Maybe you'll let me buy you dinner. They supposedly serve up some good steaks.”

 

Castiel tipped his head to the side and really considered him. “Intriguing.” Dean wasn't sure what that meant. “Very bold of you.” He turned away to head back into the bus. “I'll see you in the dining room at say, 7?”

 

“Sounds good.” Dean swallowed and started to head off.

 

Then he heard the parting words. “It's a date then.” Dean's steps faltered. He turned to make a correction, not a date, not like that. _Shit._ Castiel was gone.

 

 

Dean played to the crowd like a rock god. He’d been on tour for the past year, but there was something about the set at Cali Fest that was entirely different. He wondered if it was the guitar that seemed like it was made for him. He wondered if it was the adrenaline high that he was on after talking with Castiel. He also wondered if it was the crowd that yelled his name and made him feel like he was more than the simple guy that use to live on the road with his dad and brother.

 

When the last song ended and the crowd was still screaming, he looked to the wings and saw Castiel. He had his Caddy strapped onto his back. He was wearing a shirt now but only just barely. It was a white button up that had only two buttons fastened near his stomach. There was a lot of skin on display. He gave Dean a little wave and then moved out of the wings and out of sight. Sam was clapping his back and dragging them away.

 

The gear was loaded, and Dean could hear the long drag of notes signifying the start of Fallen’s set. Dean picked out the notes that he knew belonged to Castiel. He was playing the opening to his song ‘Perdition.’ It was one of Dean’s favorites. It was simple and at the same time not. It was about friendship and the lengths one would go through to save someone. It was one of the first songs he’d ever heard from the band.

 

“We going, Dean?” Sam called from the bus door.

 

“Yeah, just catching a little of Fallen’s first number.

 

“You need to hand off the guitar before we go?”

 

Dean had it hanging from his back. “No.” He got on the bus. “They’re staying at the Ranch with us. I’ll just hand it off to Cas at dinner tonight.” Dean didn’t make eye contact as he squeezed past his brother and went to one of the seats.

 

“Dinner?” Sam sat across from him. “We all invited to this thing or just you and Cas?”

 

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m the one that owes him for the guitar.”

 

Sam leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. “Guess you really impressed the guy if he wants to have dinner with you.”

 

“Stop making it sound like something. I’m not into guys.” _Maybe just this guy._ Dean clamped that thought down.

 

“He is though,” Sam said. “Or at least some of the times. He swings both ways.” Sam stretched and let the bones in his back pop. The bus started rolling out. “Ruby, don’t hog the bottle,” Sam called over to the dark haired bass guitarist in the back.

 

She held up the bottle and capped it. She tossed it to Sam who, thankfully, caught it. He took a swig and passed it to Dean. “Can’t believe this is our life now.”

 

Ruby came over and sat on Sam’s lap, kissing him luxuriously. “Get use to it Deany. We famous!” she said after she pulled off Sam’s mouth with a pop. “Let’s have all the sex tonight, babe.” She was staring down into Sam’s eyes. The boy was gone on her.

 

“I’m like right here you two. Don’t put me through the peep show.” Dean rolled his head back against the headrest of the chair.

 

“You don’t have to look,” Ruby purred.

 

“Sam,” Dean said.

 

“Alright, alright.” He leaned away when Ruby went in for another kiss. “We’ll be back at the hotel in less than 30. We can hold off a little.”

 

“If you say so.” She got up and sauntered over to a different seat. “Can’t wait for Vegas. They’re gonna put us up in one of those penthouse suites. I’m gonna drink so much champagne.”

 

“So say we all!” Dean snagged the bottle from Sam and tipped back a gulp. It burned all the way down. “What the hell are you two drinking? My God!”

 

“It’s a little something my daddy made us. It’s just some ‘shine.” Ruby looked pleased with Dean’s response.

 

“Shit, Ruby. This is like jet fuel or something. How are two able to drink this?”

 

Ruby just shrugged and so did Sam when Dean turned to him. Michael was in the back, quietly brooding. He chose now to pipe in. “I think I should get to do some of the vocals at the next stop. I’m tired of just drumming away in the background.”

 

“God, Michael. Always wanting more,” Ruby groaned. “You don’t have the voice for the songs, any of them. Stick to what you’re good at.”

 

Michael slammed down his glass, and retreated to the one space in the bus that could be sealed off from the rest, the bathroom. “We could let him do the last bit of ‘Kansas Cryer,’ Dean suggested.

 

“You gonna give up control of that part and watch him butcher it?” Sam asked.

 

“Maybe just once, just temporarily,” Dean said. “I mean, it’ll make him feel better.

 

Ruby got up and hovered over him. “No, he is not a singer. You are. Your brother is,” she said as she turned to him with a smirk. “Even I can belt it, but Michael is not a singer. Let’s not ruin the good thing we got going here boys.”

 

And maybe it was because Dean didn’t really like her. He got up and rapped on the door to the bathroom. “You get one song, just one, in Vegas.”

 

Michael opened the door. “Really?” He looked pleased. “Any song?”

 

“No, the end bit of ‘Kansas Cryer.” Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll see how that one goes.”

 

“This is awesome. I won’t let you down.” There was something to how Michael said it that left a funny feeling in Dean’s stomach like he’d swallowed a hornet's nest or something. He breathed out though and went back to his seat. He could face Ruby and Sam’s wrath later. The glares they were giving him told him that there would definitely be hell to pay if the ‘shine didn’t make them forget.

 

 

They got back to the Ranch and parted ways. Michael was already singing ‘Kansas Cryer’ under his breath. Sam and Ruby were hanging off each other as they oozed down the hall. “So maybe we'll see you at dinner?” Sam said as they got to their neighboring rooms.

 

“Yeah, or not.” Dean kept sliding his key card in and out of the slot, but the red light kept blinking.

 

Sam reached over and snagged the card from him. He wiped it on his pants and the slid it into the slot. The green light flashed, and Dean opened the door. “What, you afraid we'll cramp your style on your not date?”

 

“Damn right it’s not a date. Also, I'm more concerned about having to watch all of this while I'm trying to eat.” Dean waved his hand around between them.

 

“So jealous, Dean,” Ruby purred. She pulled at Sam until he followed her into the room. “Have fun, Dean,” she called out as the door closed.

 

Dean went into his room and started rummaging through his suitcase. There were too many choices to make. _Go casual?_ Dean laid out a dark tee and some jeans. _Maybe._ He pulled out a white button up and some slacks. He frowned. _Too much. Looks like I'm trying._ He glanced back at the tee and jeans combo. _Casual it is then._

 

He decided to shower and then change. He had time. _Is it a date?_ He let that question linger. He could clarify before joining him, let Cas know that it was just payback. _Or not._ His helpful brain seemed to have an agenda. _Cas is attractive, very, very attractive._ Dean found his mind eagerly running down miles of muscular thighs, skimming over glorious skin.

 

It would be seven soon enough, and he couldn't be thinking like this. _Cold shower. That'll fix things._ Dean quickly shucked off his clothes and blasted away all sorts of uncomfortable thoughts in the freezing water that shot from the shower head. _That's better…_ Even in Dean's thoughts his teeth were chattering.

 

 

Dean walked down to the restaurant right at seven. He didn’t want to be late, but he also didn’t want to be sitting there forever waiting. Dean thought that maybe Cas would be late. It was a rock star thing. The host looked bored as he approached. Dean kicked up the charm a little. The guy seemed to snap out of it once he noticed Dean. “I’m meeting someone,” Dean started. “Mind if I just look around and see if he’s already here?”

 

“Not at all Mr. Winchester.” _Ah, recognition._

 

Dean tossed him a smile and moved past him into the somewhat dark restaurant. He spotted Uriel and Anna right away in the middle of the place and made his way over to them. “Hey there,” Dean said, all casual and calm. Cas wasn’t with them.

 

“Hey yourself,” Anna said. “You all had a nice set today. It was fun to watch.”

 

“Thanks. Got to hear a little bit from you all too, before I was getting rushed out. Sounded great.”

 

“Thanks,” Uriel said. Dean was leaning against one of the seats. He wondered if he should sit, but then Uriel interrupted that thought. “You find Castiel yet?”

 

“He’s not joining you?” Dean asked.

 

Uriel squinted at him. The look seemed to ask just how stupid Dean was. “That does not sound like the kind of date Castiel would ever want.” Uriel motioned to the back of the restaurant which wrapped around a corner, out of sight. “He’s over that way.”

 

“This isn’t a date.” Dean looked from one to the other. He wasn’t sure why he had to throw down the denial. He just didn’t want the discomfort of that looming over his head. He’d never dated a man. Feeling attraction was one thing. Dating was quite another. It all seemed like too much work. With women it was easy, damn near expected. With men, there was that great potential for rejection that he just didn’t need. However, none of that explained this moment. There was no chance of rejection, yet he was knocking down the idea before it even got off the ground.

 

“Pretty sure Castiel views it that way.” Uriel looked at Anna then back at Dean; the squint deepened. “Sure hope you don’t end up being an asshole.”

 

“Uh, sorry.” Dean didn’t know what to say.

 

Anna, thankfully interrupted. “Maybe just make sure he knows that this is platonic. Don’t lead him on if this is just bros hanging out or some shit.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Will do.” Dean started backing up. This was all sorts of uncomfortable. “Well, I’d best go find him.” Dean started to turn and saw that Uriel was already done with him, pulling out his cell phone.

 

Finding Cas took a little wandering. The back half of the restaurant was a maze of booths that seemed to snake back from the main, much more open center. It gave each booth an air of privacy. The place felt like a date night restaurant. It was funny to Dean in a way that this place even existed, so far from any city that could really utilize it.

 

Cas seemed to be tapping out a message on his phone, a couple of beers in front of him. Dean sucked in a breath of confidence and held it as he approached. Cas had changed into a different white button up from before. The other had been a flimsier material than this one. He also buttoned it up to a respectable height--only two buttons were left unbuttoned. “Heya, Cas.” Dean took the guitar off his back then slid into the seat. Cas set his phone aside. Dean settled the guitar into the space beside him and found that this brought him a bit closer to Cas. _This is fine though. Everything’s fine._

 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas slid one of the beers over. “I ordered you a beer. Hope it wasn’t too presumptuous.”

 

Dean took it and said, “I will always accept beer. Thanks.” He drank down a bit, and felt a little refreshed. “Thanks again for the guitar. You really saved me today.”

 

“My pleasure. Seems as though she worked well for you. Your set sounded great.” Cas seemed different, less confident than he was earlier. His whole frame seemed to hunch into the table a little, like the day had been too long.

 

“I got to hear a bit of your set before the crew was dragging me away. It was awesome. You played ‘Perdition.’” Dean licked his lips and leaned in closer like he was sharing a secret. “That song, seriously, it’s actually my favorite song.”

 

“Really?” Cas tipped his head to take in Dean’s words. “Favorite Fallen song?”

 

“No all time, all band, all songs considered. It is the best. It’s…” Dean struggled for the right word and settled on, “Pure.”

 

This got Castiel laughing a little. “Wow, not sure anyone ever described anything I was involved with as pure.” He leaned in closer to Dean and said, “Thanks for that.”

 

The waiter came over and took their orders. Castiel got a filet, and Dean just copied him. They got another round of beers too. “Do you guys always do the Cali Fest?” Dean asked.

 

“Only for the last three years. It’s an easy gig, and the pay is good.” Castiel tipped back the little bit of beer remaining in his bottle.

 

“I was kinda shocked by the pay for this to be quite honest.”

 

“Oh, you were expecting more?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Uh, no. It’s crazy how much they pay for this, plus the travel expenses. Do you know how much is left in my honor bar right now?”

 

Castiel laughed. “The honor bar might be the only thing that’s nice about that room though.”

 

“Oh, it’s a solid step up from what I’m use to. Half expected the magic fingers bed though.” Dean laughed at the thought.

 

Castiel seemed to be studying him. His long fingers played with the label on his beer. The new beers came and the old bottles went. It was funny that they served it in the bottles and not poured into fancy glasses. “I’d have thought that a band like Winchester would be used to fancy digs.”

 

“Getting there.” Dean took a sip from the new bottle. “Sammy and I, we’re simple people. We grew up on the road. Dad was always hauling us from one place to the next. Spent more nights in the back of the Impala, catching sleep, than in an actual bed.”

 

“Really?” Something softened in Castiel’s eyes. “Why’d you all move around so much?”

 

“Dad was just a drifter. He never could settle into a place once mom died. He took odd jobs in one town after the next. We lived in run-down roadside motels all over the country.”

 

“He still around?”

 

“Nah, died when we were young.” Dean looked up from his beer at Castiel. His blue eyes held him. “One night he checked us into a motel and went off. He did that sometimes. Usually, he’d come back with groceries, or he’d be drunk. He was more often a sad drunk than a mean one. I took care of Sammy when he was gone like that.” Dean paused wondering how much to share. It was already more than he’d usually share.

 

“What happened to him that night?”

 

“He didn’t come back. We didn’t worry at first. It wasn’t like he was doing anything too weird by staying out all night.” Dean swallowed back a bit more of his beer. “Next night though, he still wasn’t back. That was a little weird. I took Sam into town. Normally we avoided the police. Dad seemed to think they were out to get him.”

 

Their food came. Castiel didn’t dive in. “I hate asking, but I find myself rather invested in what happened next.”

 

“I went to the police with Sam in tow. They said there had been an accident. It was quick at least. Sam and I got shuffled off into a group home, Sonny’s place. It was strangely stable.”

 

“That’s a lot for a child to deal with. I’m sorry.” The way Castiel said it, it sounded sincere and kind. It wasn’t like those empty sentiments tossed off when people couldn’t think of what to say. Dean gave him a half grin.

 

“Eventually we ended up with Bobby. He knew my dad from before. He had his work cut out for him though, adopting us and all. Sam was 13 by the time it was all legal and shit. I was 17, nearly an adult. I told him he shouldn’t bother with me. Seemed pointless. He tore me a new one for that. Told me I could be thirty, and he’d still want to claim me.” Dean decided to start cutting into his steak. “I’m not much with the whole sharing of feelings and such, but damn if that old man didn’t make me cry.”

 

“Wait, is that Bobby Singer you're talking about? Your agent?” Castiel asked.

 

“The one and only.” Dean took a giant bite of his steak. Table manners be damned. Sam was always ragging on him for the way he ate. Castiel seemed to be unfazed. “Bobby got into the whole agent thing by accident.”

 

“That seems crazy.”

 

“You know Jo Harvelle?” Dean asked.

 

“Yeah, we've met a few times. She can drink me under the table.” Castiel smiled and took a bite of his steak.

 

“Well, her mom Ellen is her agent, but she was struggling to get bookings. She ended up asking Bobby to help organize her contacts. He ended up doing more than that. He started building a whole network. He was all sorts of charm.”

 

Castiel went down a tangent. “Heard he and Ellen were a thing once.”

 

“Briefly. They make better friends.” Dean considered Bobby and his vast array of contacts. So many of them ended up in his bed. Dean wondered if Castiel knew about Bobby and Crowley's on again off again connections. Since Crowley was Castiel's manger it seemed likely that he knew. _Not my place to go sharing though._

 

“So how does this end with him managing you and the beginnings of the band Winchester?”

 

“Ellen gave him 2% of Jo's Badass Band's cut. Said he made them what they were. It was enough to get Bobby started. He got a few up and comers. Guess being around all those musicians inspired us. Sam and I learned guitar from random guys stopping in to record. Kravitz gave us some time. He was great, real nice fella. There were others, lots of people kind enough to take some idiots under their wings.”

 

Castiel's brows came together. “Do you always self-deprecate?”

 

“Only when speaking the truth,” Dean answered with a grin. “Sam ended up being the best of us. He started writing songs and playing things. One day he was playing an early version of ‘Pamela Barnes’, and Bobby heard it. Now Pam was a good friend, another one of Bobby's friends with benefits.”

 

“That Bobby really gets around.”

 

“So much.” Dean laughed and continued, “Well, he hears Sammy singing about Pam and he just about loses it. We thought he was mad.”

 

Castiel asked, “He wasn't though?”

 

“Nope. Well, mad that we'd been holding out on him. He had no clue we could do the musician thing. We had to show him all of the songs we'd been working on, stuff we were just goofing off with.”

 

“And the rest is history?”

 

“Five years of plugging away before anything really stuck, but yeah. I think Sam and I decided early on that this thing had to work. We owed it to Bobby.”

 

Silence took over for a bit, and they focused on their meals. Cas waved at the waiter for more beer. Dean was feeling the warm curl of it all flowing through him. He was also feeling a different warmth. He'd shared a lot. It was strange. He'd never been on a date like this before, _not a date,_ where he felt so free.

 

“Dessert?” The waiter asked after they had finished up their entrees.

 

“Nah, gotta keep up my figure,” Castiel said with a wink. The waiter blushed and retreated.

 

“You literally flirt with everyone,” Dean said with a laugh.

 

“Only the ones that seem like they'd reciprocate or at least appreciate it.”

 

“I was even on the receiving end of that.” Dean was laughing again.

 

“And look at us now. I've got a belly full of beer and steak and good looking company. Winning!” Castiel threw him a wink now too.

 

“I am pretty good looking.”

 

“Humble too.” Castiel rolled his eyes. “What happened to the shy guitarist from earlier?”

 

“He had too many beers.”

 

“Oh, I see. You're a beer blamer. You gonna try to get in my pants then claim the beer made you do it?” The question was tossed off like a joke, but there was a touch of the serious under the tone.

 

“I'm not drunk, just warm.” Dean realized that he still hadn't said anything about this not being a date.

 

“Uriel texted me after you visited his table.”

 

 _Oh._  “And?” Dean went with denial, like that worked for him ever. Three-beer Dean couldn't do better though.

 

“He said you made it clear this wasn't a date. You're a girls-only kind of guy despite the vibes you put out.”

 

“Did he now?” Dean was not sure why, but he wanted to change the course that conversation with Uriel had taken them down.

 

“He and Anna have my back, always have. They didn't want to see me getting my hopes up.”

 

“We only just met. Not much to hope for.”

 

“Maybe. I've been kinda going on for the past month about Winchester being our lead in. I was pretty determined to meet you, and then I got chicken shit and stayed cooped up in my bus.”

 

Dean laughed. “Don't think I didn't see what you did there.”

 

“Lucky for me Uriel went off wandering to get away from my brooding. And the rest as they say is history.”

 

“You were not brooding or chicken shit. I don't buy it one bit. You were half naked, hanging out the doorway to your bus.”

 

“Fake it til you make it, Deano.”

 

“Eh, let's not use that nickname.” Dean tossed down some cash on the little plastic tray that the waiter set down. “Wanna walk off some of this meal?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Dean didn't feel ready to let the evening end. There were a couple of ways it could go, but all options felt like they'd be too much. Walking bought him time. “You see any paparazzi on the property?”

 

“Strangely enough, no.”

 

Dean had the guitar strapped to his back as they walked. He knew that the evening with Cas would end with the hand off of the guitar whether tonight or in the morning. There was a small orchard at the back end of the property. In the distance was the dull rumble of cars on the 5. They followed the meandering path through the trees until they came to the end of the property. Castiel leaned into a tree.

 

“It's nice here. I don't think I've had such a nice evening in,” Dean paused to consider then said, “ever.”

 

“I think the beer is going to your head.”Castiel laughed. Dean wanted to keep making him laugh. The low rumble of his voice, the mirth of it was intoxication. Dean moved closer.

 

“It was nice. Don't rain on my parade.”

 

“Next thing you know, you'll be telling me that Uriel misunderstood you.”

 

Dean looked down at his shoes. They'd gotten him close to Cas now. He kicked at some gravel a little. “He didn't misunderstand me. I'm just…” Dean really didn't know how to answer.

 

“Hanging in the closet,” Castiel supplied.

 

“Maybe.” Dean glanced up. They were pretty close. Dean put on a half grin, something flirty that had served him well over the years. Castiel raised a brow. Dean leaned in and let his lips brush over Castiel's. It was an invitation. Castiel didn't take it. He didn't retreat either though.

 

“Cute.” He stood out of the lean. “That usually work for you, that cocky little smirk. Bet you get all the ladies dropping to their knees for that look.”

 

Castiel was stepping into Dean's space and Dean was retreating. There was something powerful in the way Cas approached him. “Worth a shot.”

 

“You kiss like you're afraid of what happens next.”

 

That got close to home. Dean stopped backing up, afraid that he'd hit something with the guitar. “Guess you'll be wanting her back now.” Dean unstrapped the guitar and handed her over.

 

Castiel took her. “I'm going to regret not asking you back to my room.”

 

They started walking back together, arms brushing with each step. They got to Dean's room and he struggled with his key card again, though this time might have been due to his nerves. Castiel took the card just like Sam had and made it work. “You wanna come in?”

 

“So much,” Castiel breathed out as he leaned into Dean's neck. His lips brushed over Dean's ear. “See you around.”

 

With that, he turned and walked away. Dean watched him go, the guitar strapped to his back now. Dean considered going after him, trying a little harder. He could fake confidence, push Castiel against the nearest wall and kiss his breath away. The guitar would get hurt. Dean didn't move, didn't catch him before the corner, and like that he was gone.

 

 

They got 23 cities in a row after that. The tour seemed to be never ending. Somehow Bobby got Dean's guitar sent out to him before they performed in Vegas. It felt weird to play it, like it was something that wasn't his. _Fake it til you make it._

 

And most nights he thought of Cas, of the night that almost was. He was full of regrets. He thought that he'd shed the feeling soon enough, but it was always there licking away beneath the surface.

 

Sam called him on it a few times, but nothing came of it. Dean was a master of avoidance, and so long as he didn't get too angry or too morose, he could keep Sam off his back.

 

It had been months of touring before they hit New York on New Year's Eve. Dean was exhausted and so was everyone else. Sam and Ruby were curled up in the back of the bus, so heavy with sleep even the jolting of the bus stopping didn't wake them.

 

Their driver announced their arrival. Michael was already stumbling off the bus. Dean said he'd get Sam and Ruby.

 

“Wake up you two.”

 

Sam groaned and rubbed sleep out of his eyes. “We home yet?” It had been their joke at every stop for the last month.

 

“Nope, but we're so close. After New York, it's just a straight shot back to California.”

 

“You keep saying that. You realize we couldn't get any farther away from home at this point.”

 

“Sure we could,” Dean said. “Bobby could've added Canada to the tour.”

 

Sam groaned again and shook Ruby. “Time to get up.”

 

She cracked an eye open. “Can I quit? I think I quit.”

 

Dean headed for the door. It really did feel like home was closer. Stepping out into the frigid New York morning woke him up completely. And if that didn't, the sight of the other bus across from him sure did. Sam and Ruby were behind him now. Michael was stretching, back popping with the effort.

 

“Did you guys know that Fallen was gonna be here?”

 

Sam set a hand on Dean's shoulder. “It's New Year's man. Everyone's going to be here.” They slipped past Dean and headed into the hotel. Michael followed them. They were early enough that they might be able to sleep a bit more. Dean felt too awake for that option now. He'd had so many regrets from that night, not the least of which was forgetting to get Castiel's phone number.

 

 _He's gotta be checked in already._ Dean was already plotting. People were already unloading their baggage, so Dean made his way into the hotel. Sam was at the counter and Ruby was next to him with her head resting on the counter. Michael was signing autographs and talking up fans. Dean strolled up to Sam’s side. The girl helping them was way too chipper for so early. “I’m a huge fan of yours Mr. Winchester,” she was saying.

 

Sam was doing his best to be his usually sunny self, but he was tired. She was explaining the keys and the hotel’s amenities to him now, and Sam was unfocused. Dean reached out and slid the keys to Sam, out of the girl’s reach. “Here, Sammy. Why don’t you guys go on up and get some sleep. I’ll be up in a minute.” Dean smiled. “He turned to the girl and asked, “They putting me up in the same room as them?”

 

“Yes, they said it would be okay?” She looked nervous. It was likely that the hotel was completely booked at that point.

 

Dean pulled one of the key cards out and said, “See you guys up there later.” Then turning back to the girl said, “It’s perfect. I just didn’t want to assume.” Sam and Ruby were already halfway to the elevator when Michael broke away and joined them. The fans in the lobby were carrying on. Security seemed to be good though. They only got to follow them to the elevator lobby, then they were held back.

 

“So was there anything I could help you with, Mr. Winchester?” The receptionist asked.

 

“Maybe.” He looked to her nametag and continued, “Becky is it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So, Becky, Winchester and Fallen performed at the Cali Fest.”

 

Becky interrupted, “Oh, and don’t I know it. I was so excited to see you guys paired up with so many other talented bands. It’s high time Sam gets recognition on the festival circuit for his amazing voice.” She was practically swooning. Dean wondered how she survived getting to talk with him all up close.

 

“So, you’re a Sam girl huh?” Dean turned up the charm.

 

“Oh, I’m a Winchester fan, to be sure.”

 

Dean laughed and said, “It’s okay to be partial. Sam’s kinda awesome.” He smiled.

 

“He is,” she agreed, eyes going all doey. “Are he and Ruby?” She started but didn’t finish.

 

“Oh, who knows with them.” Dean tried to blow off the question. A direct answer wouldn’t serve his purposes today. “So, is Fallen staying here too?”

 

Becky smiled and pointed out the door toward the street with the bus on clear display. “You did see their bus, right?”

 

“Yeah, I guess I was just hoping to get more information. You see Winchester and Fallen kinda bonded after that gig in California, and I’d like to pop in on them.”

 

Becky seemed to be waiting for more from him, a direct request maybe. “That’s nice,” she said. It didn’t seem to encourage anything.

 

“It was. I guess this is where you come in. Would you be able to hook me up with Castiel’s room number?” Direct, to the point, confident, he hoped that would get him what he wanted.

 

“I’m not allowed to give out guest information. You’ll appreciate the rule when all those fans start clamoring for your room number.” Dean turned to look at the fans that were being encouraged out the door.

 

“Is there some other way we can work around this?” Dean leaned into the counter and tried for a different look, one that was quiet and unassuming. “I just can’t think of another way to surprise them without it being all public. Everything we do is always so,” Dean waved his hand around and then added, “out there, ya know.”

 

“I can imagine. Privacy is probably pretty hard to come by for all of you.” She was typing on the computer. “Maybe they added you to their list of acceptables.”

 

“Huh?” Dean perked up a little. “What’s that?”

 

“You can submit a list of people that are allowed access to you via your room or a phone call. For instance, your manager is on your list, and so is someone named Ellen Harvelle.”

 

“Oh,” Dean liked the idea that Ellen could just pop on in at any time. He smiled at the thought. Then he realized that he wasn’t likely going to be on any list for Castiel. “Yeah, that’s probably…”

 

“Ah, you’re in luck,” Becky interrupted. “Looks like Castiel has you on his list.” She tipped her head to the side and said as if to herself, “Just you though, no Sam.”

 

“Guess I’m the leader of the band’s friendship committee.” Dean drummed at the counter and asked, “So does this mean I can get his room number?”

 

“It does.” She was writing something on a slip of paper, the number. She slid it to him. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Winchester?”

 

“No, you’ve been great. Thanks so much Becky.” Dean strolled away with a level of confidence he hadn’t felt in some time. As he approached the elevator, the feeling ebbed a little. _What do I even say?_

 

Castiel's room was one floor above theirs. The security guard at the elevators let him pass and punched in the number when Dean said it. He was operating on autopilot. He wasn't even going to stop off at his own room first, too afraid that he'd talk himself out of seeing Cas.

 

The elevator arrived at Castiel's floor and Dean stepped out. The doors closed behind him, and Dean considered just turning right back around. _He's right there though._

 

Dean committed. There were two rooms on this floor. Castiel's room was on the left. He wondered if Castiel had the same schedule they did, arrive at 5 for hair and make-up. Perform at 7 and 9. Their performance times would be different but maybe not the prep times. He also wondered if Cas was sharing a room with his band or if he had some privacy.

 

Dean was in front of Cas’ door now. Dean shook out his limbs, pasted on a confident face, and gave the door a knock. The seconds were long. _What do I say?_

 

Dean considered knocking again but instead tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. _Be calm._ The door opened. Castiel stood in front of him in a full suit. The color was really something, electric blue and a little shimmery. “Heya, Cas,” Dean said, silently cheering for himself for sounding just fine. And because he was confident, Dean reached out and began straightening Cas’ tie. He even gave Castiel's chest a little pat and said, “Looking good.”

 

“Dean.” Castiel's voice held awe and surprise all at once. “Why are you here?”

 

“We're performing tonight. Our room is a floor down from yours.” Dean rocked back on his heels a bit.

 

Cas stepped back and motioned Dean into the room. “Nice digs. Step up from the Ranch, that's for sure.”

 

“You seem surprised. Is your room different?” Castiel walked to the middle of the room and took up residence at Dean's side.

 

“Wouldn't know. The band went right to the room. They were exhausted.”

 

Castiel moved to face him. “And you came right here.”

 

Dean saw how much that revealed. He didn't like feeling so exposed. “You put me on your list.”

 

“Thought Fallen and Winchester might get together afterwards, after the performance.” Castiel stepped to the window and looked out. It felt like avoidance.

 

“You only put my name on the list.” Dean stepped closer to him. The windows though, they reminded him of how high up they were, so he stopped just a few feet away. Castiel didn't turn around. “Were you hoping to party with my band tonight, or were you just hoping to party with me?”

 

Castiel finally faced him. “I didn't think I’d get a second shot.”

 

Dean focused on Cas’ face. He could ignore the heights better that way. He stepped into Cas’ space. “Second shot, huh?” Dean dragged his hands up Castiel's arms. “You need to give me your number. I've been kicking myself for not asking before.”

 

“Where's your phone?” They were so close.

 

“Back pocket.” Castiel's hands roamed to Dean's lower back then down to his ass. One hand dipped into a pocket to retrieve the phone. The other just held onto the other side.

 

Castiel took the phone and stepped back. Dean's phone wasn't locked. Cas opened his contacts and added himself. “Can I send myself a text?”

 

“Yeah.” Dean wondered when he'd become so mesmerized by hands, just hands with gloriously long fingers that conjured music like they were made for nothing else. Cas had so many other attributes on which to focus, but here he was staring at his hands and getting just a little hard. _He did grab my ass._

 

A phone pinged across the room. Castiel passed the phone back to Dean. Dean looked down at the text that Cas sent to himself. _I'm going to kiss you at midnight._

 

Dean looked up at him. “Where?” Dean's struggling brain asked.

 

“In the traditional places,” Cas smirked. “I'll likely start with that lush mouth of yours.”

 

“Yeah, that would be awesome.” Dean took a step closer. “Not what I was asking though.” Castiel tipped his head, studying Dean in his confusion. “I meant where will we be? You performing up until midnight?”

 

“I'm one of the last acts, so I'll be out til past midnight. What about you?”

 

Dean wanted to start kissing him now, pressing into his spaces. Something held him back. “Our last song is scheduled for 9.”

 

“Come find me then.” Castiel stepped right up to him, pressed his chest against Dean's. He dragged his fingers up into Dean's hair. Dean thought he was about to be well and thoroughly kissed. He licked his lips in anticipation. “I'm not going to kiss you now. I don't need the practice. I am going to kiss you at midnight though. I've never done the New Year's kiss thing, and I think I'll like the experience. I think you might like it too.”

 

“You know what they say about the New Year's kiss right?” Cas just shook his head. “The person you kiss is the one you'll be kissing all year or something like that.”

 

Castiel spun Dean around and directed him toward the door. “You have to go. Too tempting. Plus I have an interview in 15 minutes in another room.” With some degree of skill, Castiel got Dean pressed to the wall next to the door. He held Dean there with his body. He nuzzled at Dean's shoulder and the side of his neck. Dean took the opportunity to grab Cas’ ass with both hands, pulling him closer. “Find me tonight,” Castiel breathed the words into Dean's skin, then somehow Dean found himself out in the hall. Castiel just smiled at him as he closed the door between them.

 

 

Castiel breathed in deep lungfuls of air. He didn’t expect Dean to ask after him. He’d thrown his name on the list in some sort of moment born out of vain fantasy. He didn’t date closeted men. Frankly he didn’t date anyone. Who had time for that anyway. He felt reckless though. And he thought that Dean was something worthy of a little recklessness.

 

They took on another band member, and maybe that had changed something in Castiel’s resolve. Luc was talented, and they needed a talented drummer. They’d been utilizing some fill-ins since Al left. Uriel and Anna finally put their collective feet down saying, ‘Al wasn’t coming back.’

 

Castiel wondered if they could have waited just a little longer though. Luc was talented, but maybe they could have found someone less pretentious. _Maybe I’m just getting old._ Luc took to Anna and Uriel right off. They started spending a whole lot of time together, writing new music, playing out little melodies that they’d come up with on the spot. Castiel involved himself on occasion, but only when he felt like it was expected.

 

It was his own standoffishness that lead to him rooming by himself. He just didn’t want to be around them anymore. It’s a thing that happens in bands that tour. They get to be too close all of the time. The long bus rides, the many cramped hotel rooms, the long sets. It all lead to the desire to just be alone or at least with a face that was new.

 

Dean’s face had occupied a lion’s share of his imagination over the past months. Seeing him here, roused all the old fantasies again, as if they’d ever faded. He shook off the thoughts. He had to get his head in the game. Three interviews and then prep. After that, he’d be performing, losing himself in the songs that would roll over the near-frozen bodies crammed into Times Square.

 

 _Could it be midnight already?_ Dean would find him. _Stop now._ Castiel entered the conference room that had been transformed for interviews. “Castiel, what a pleasure.” Rowena McLeod  took his hand in both of hers. “It’s been too long.”

 

“A full year. We should have New Year’s more often.” Castiel ended with a short little laugh. They took seats and she asked him about his year, his newest album, the band, the usual media fodder. She dipped into his dating life, and she was kind enough not to gender his potential partners. He respected her more for that. He was quick to tell her that he was still sadly single.

 

“So no special someone to kiss at midnight?” She looked positively sad. “I must find you then and remedy this dire situation.” She smiled at him, and he knew it was all for the cameras. Her eyes sparkled, and her flowing red hair made her look almost magical.

 

“I might have to take you up on that,” he said with a wink, that he hoped added the extra air of humor to the whole moment. They moved on to other talks. In the end it wasn’t so painful, and it was far better than the other two interviews that came after. They were both so canned that it might have been possible to record last year’s responses to just play back. He thought that he might suggest that for next year.

 

Uriel, Anna, and Luc found him afterwards at the hotel bar, drinking away the memories of the long morning that was now afternoon. “Don’t get drunk,” Anna said, pushing away the glass from him.

 

“Not even close, Mom,” Castiel replied. “How’d your interviews go?”

 

“Same old, same old.” Uriel sat next to him. “Honestly can’t wait to get home, sleep for three days straight.”

 

“Soon, soon,” Castiel commiserated. “Crowley’s gonna want us back out though.”

 

“We can say no. A little down time never hurt anyone.” Anna said.

 

Luc took that moment to chime in. “You all see that the Winchesters arrived?” Ran into Sam in the elevator earlier.”

 

“Oh, they’reCassie’s boys,” Anna cooed. “Well, Dean is anyway. Platonically speaking.”

 

“Shut it, Anna.” Castiel didn’t mind the ribbing, but he didn’t feel like Luc needed to know about his life choices.

 

“Oh, so Cassie here has a little crush?” Luc started grinning and continued. “Deannnn, oh Deannn.”

 

“Wow, are you six?” Castiel asked.

 

“I never have been accused of maturity.” Luc laughed now. What really bugged Castiel was that Anna and Uriel laughed with him. “Really was impressed with Sam. Guy can belt out a tune like no one’s business. He and that gal Ruby were singing something new in the elevator. Caught ‘em red handed.”

 

“How nice,” Castiel said, so done with all of it. “We ready to head to prep?”

 

“Yeah, kinda why we came to get you.” Anna started pulling him up from the bar. “It’s gonna be so good. I love New Year’s!” She was reaching into her purse now to pull out something. Suddenly, Cas was wearing a big ugly pair of New Year’s glasses. She added some to her own face. “Please wear them. They’re great. And we can be twinsies like in high school.”

 

Cas didn’t take them off, and even leaned into her half hug as she dragged him out of the hotel to their waiting car.

 

 

High school for them had been a carefully orchestrated thing. The three of them were all in the same sort of academic path. AP classes, as many as they could squeeze in, four years of math instead of the recommended minimum. Anna was certified bilingual, and Uriel earned his AA at the same time as he had earned his high school diploma.

 

This was how the band came to be. Castiel had a bit of a moment in their shared orchestra class. “We need a break. All work and no play is going to kill us.” Looking back it was funny that it was Cas that said any of that. They all started meeting at Uriel’s garage a couple of nights a week.

 

Somehow it worked, and it maybe even saved them. They graduated and went off to their separate colleges, but every break and every summer they came back together. Fame came slowly. They had a few small gigs here and there, then more, then constant bookings. At a local festival, they met Crowley.

 

The rest was easy. He was a master promoter. He let them try to keep the college thing going, but that eventually ended as the money and fame took over their lives. “Castiel, are you happy?” Anna had asked him at the end of their first tour.

 

“Absolutely,” he had replied without hesitation. “You?”

 

“I think so. Certainly not how I thought this all would go.”

 

Uriel joined them, throwing an arm over each of their shoulders. “Did you ever think you'd have so much money?”

 

They all laughed at him and at the situation. “I'm not even sure what to do with all of it,” Castiel admitted.

 

It was a moment he looked back at from time to time. They were happy on their new adventure together. He loved them. They were family in that deep way that friends sometimes were.

 

 

It was just after 11. Keeping up with Sam and Ruby was a challenge. They were a bit drunk. Michael was riding on some sort of high, hanging off Dean's shoulder, thanking Dean for giving him a shot at singing. It had gone fine in Vegas. They let him have moments. It was working for now.

 

“We're friends right?” Michael was asking, too close to Dean's ear.

 

“Yeah man. We're good.” Dean tried to clap his back in reassurance, Michael just kept hanging on. Dean figured he was using him for stability.

 

“Dean!” Sam called over. “Ruby and I are going to go listen to Fallen.” Sam was waving toward the distant stage. Thankfully they didn't have to make their way through any of the crowds. Their were paths set out for the celebrity guests. Occasionally, they'd be stopped for some Q and A's, but then they could move on.

 

Dean could see Castiel setting up. He managed to get closer to the edge of the stage even with Michael hanging off of him. He gave Cas a wave.

 

“You found me,” Castiel said as he came to the edge of the stage.

 

“Yeah, me and my whole drunk band. I'm the only sober one here.”

 

“Dean, so responsible,” Castiel leaned down to his ear. Michael was still hanging off of Dean, but he was talking to Ruby on his left. Castiel whispered. “How are you planning to slip away?”

 

Dean looked up at him and said, “Still working on that. Maybe prayer will lead to a miracle.”

 

“What sort of miracle are you after?” Michael asked.

 

“World peace,” Dean said in his most serious tone. Castiel laughed at them and walked away to finish setting up for round two of the night.

 

 

“God damn, they're good!” Sam was shouting over the noise.

 

“I know. Castiel knows how to play,” Dean shouted back. He was freezing. All of the people were way more bundled up than he was. The band came down to their level.

 

“We do alright, guys?” Anna called over to them as she came over.

 

“Alright is an understatement,” Dean said. “Best performance of the night, hands down.” It was getting close to midnight, 11:30.

 

Castiel said, “Let's all go warm up in the studio. They've got food and drinks in there too.”

 

“Will we be able to see the ball drop?” Ruby asked.

 

“I could show you a ball drop,” Luc said with a wink.

 

“Luc, know your audience,” Castiel said, a level of harshness rolled out in his tone that silenced them all.

 

“Oh, Cassie, I'm just foolin’” Luc turned to Ruby and added, “I'm the band's resident joker. Don't take me too seriously.” He pointed at the studio windows above them and said, “We'll be in there. Best view in town.”

 

They all headed in then. Michael somehow got separated from Dean's side and plastered to Luc's instead. Castiel filled the vacancy. “Thought I'd been replaced,” he whispered.

 

“Thanks for the rescue. And I'll kindly ask you to make sure not to leave my side. If you do he'll come back like a damn leech.”

 

“Then he and Luc should get on great. Two peas in a pod.” The warm air of the studio was almost too much at first.

 

Dean wasn’t sure that his body would be able to handle the sharp change. He was shivering now more than he had been outside. “God, how cold is it out there?”

 

“15 degrees. Not as bad as some years. Still.” Castiel began dragging Dean over to the far end of the room. “Heater.” He pointed up at the vents. “Stay under those for a bit.” Then quieter and closer to his ears. “Gotta warm up those lips for me.”

 

Dean felt his face warm up with that. Castiel was pulled away by some studio guy. The others all had someone to talk to. Dean stared out the window at the city with all of its lights and mayhem. He subtly scanned the room for small escapes, places where they could go and not be seen.

 

Dean slipped away from the heater to go find Cas. It hadn’t been long, but so what. He heard his voice before he saw him. “The band needs the break. You gotta give us some down time.”

 

“I know Castiel, I know. And we will. You guys are just on such a high right now. You know, maybe we could squeeze some down time in for them and just use you. You dating any hot models at present?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well, too bad. The press would focus on that and eat it all up.” There was silence for a moment then the guy said, “Can you maybe start up something with someone? It doesn't even have to last.”

 

“That's not how I roll. You're going to have to let this go.” Castiel sounded stressed. Dean choose that moment to step into the hall.

 

“Heya, Cas. I think the ball might be dropping soon.”

 

Castiel stepped away from the suit. “You'll have to excuse me. I'm off the clock now.”

 

The guy smiled as he walked away, saying, “Ain't none of us ever off the clock.”

 

“Thanks for the save,” Cas said.

 

“It's almost midnight, someone had to.” Dean was grinning stupidly. The countdown was starting.

 

Cas snatched Dean's hand. “Come on.” He dragged Dean down the hall. There were some offices that were dark. Castiel went past those. He got to the end as the crowd was getting to three. Castiel pushed open the door and got Dean in the room and pressed right back against the door. The world outside was loud enough to penetrate the walls and glass. There were fireworks, then there was Castiel clutching his face in his hands. “Fuck, you're beautiful.”

 

“Less talking. More kissing,” Dean got the words out before Castiel was kissing him. There was finesse to the move like he'd trained for it. He had Dean's head tipped to the side just right. He had his tongue in Dean's mouth. The day's stubble was scraping Dean's cheek. He liked it, a lot.

 

The women he'd kissed before had a softness that Castiel lacked. He was all hard lines and ridges that Dean wanted desperately to explore in greater detail. _Castiel has his own room. We can totally go there._ His brain was a reckless teenager. _What if people see us?_ Dean struggled with that, the careful image he put out there of himself.

 

Castiel's hands were somehow under his shirt now, running up his ribs to his chest. Castiel snapped back for a breath. “You don't need all these layers.”

 

“Need I remind you that it's 15 degrees out?”

 

“Need I mention the things I can do to you if you lose some of those layers?” Castiel pinched Dean's nipple and grinned.

 

“Not here,” Dean closed his eyes and groaned. “Fuck Cas.” Castiel was rolling his hips hard into Dean.

 

“I'm trying.” He kindly stepped back though. “As luck would have it, I do have my own room. Come back with me.”

 

Dean was shaking. “Shit, get back over here. I'm freezing again.” It was more than that. Castiel pulled him into his arms anyway. Maybe he believed it was cold.

 

“I understand if it's too much.” It was quiet now. _Shit, stop sounding so chicken shit,_ Dean thought. “I won't rush you.”

 

“Let's slip out the back. I don't want to get stuck babysitting the drunks.”

 

“As you wish,” Castiel whispered.

 

 

Miracles happen everyday. They bundled back up, and somehow no one saw them leave. No one approached them on the streets for an autograph. No one seemed to even know that either of them existed. They even got back to the hotel and into the elevator up to Castiel’s floor. Miracles like that don’t happen everyday for Dean, but they happen for someone, and he was glad that it was finally his turn.

 

“Cas,” Dean said as they got off the elevator and the door closed behind them. “Should I run back to my room for my bag?”

 

“No, you’re just downstairs.” He took Dean’s hand again and pulled him down the hall. “I really don’t want you out of my sight.”

 

“Okay then. You’ll have to put up with my limited wardrobe.” Dean tried to joke. He was sure that his efforts were failing.

 

Castiel opened his door, and they went in. “Pretty sure your limited wardrobe is half the appeal at least.”

 

Dean followed him to the living room. They kicked off shoes as they went, shed jackets to the floor, and began the unbuttoning process that seemed like it’d take forever. It wasn’t even your typical brand of sexy undressing. It was just so much clothing. “15 fucking degrees. Next year, let’s work in Palm Springs.”

 

“We’re too young for that.” Castiel stepped into his space, and he began helping Dean finish undressing. “If you want to keep anything on, just say so.”

 

“I think naked is good.” Dean leaned in and kissed him. He dragged his mouth to Cas’ neck, letting his teeth drag over his pulse point just a little. “Want you.”

 

“Clothing be damned then.” Castiel moved faster. Clothing littered the floor as Castiel pushed Dean down to the couch. Castiel knelt over Dean, and for a moment he just looked down at Dean. They kissed on the couch and Cas kept in grinding down into Dean's lap. Eventually Cas pulled Dean up and led him off to the bedroom. They moved together to the bed, where Cas said him down gently. Dean liked the scrape of Cas’ nails on his back after that, the raw feel of him against him. “Have you done this before?” Castiel leaned back to look at him for more than his words.

 

“Plenty of times.” Dean looked away a little and added, “With women.”

 

“Then we’re going to go with something simple.” Castiel opened his nightstand and pulled out a condom. He tore it open and dropped to his knees. “No glove, no love.” He rolled it onto Dean, and then he swiftly took Dean into his mouth. All of Dean just gave up then. The muscles that had been champions before, couldn’t hold him up. His body fell back onto the bed. Castiel popped off of him. “You okay?”

 

“My body is weak, but my spirit is willing,” Dean laughed as he said it.

 

“Too many temperature changes.” Castiel ran his hands up Dean’s thighs. “You enjoying this at all?”

 

“You almost knocked me out with how enjoyable this was.” Dean watched Cas sink back down on him. Head bobbing away as he sucked, Castiel made Dean feel like everything was zipping away and he was stuck on this small pinpoint of pleasure. Everything was Cas, and everything was so very good. Castiel’s tongue was circling him. His fingers were digging into Dean’s thighs and holding on for dear life.

 

He popped off and looked at Dean again. “So glad you found me.”

 

“So glad you wanted to be found,” Dean replied. He reached down and cupped Cas’ cheek in his hand. Castiel nuzzled into him then went back to it. Dean’s fingers were twisting into his hair now. His body was arching up off the bed. He was sure this was it; this was how he would die. Castiel’s mouth on him would be listed as his cause of death. “Cas, Cas, Cas,” he breathed out. And then he was coming. Castiel pulled off as Dean continued. He scrambled back up the bed on top of Dean and lined himself up with the crook of Dean’s thigh. He was thrusting into the space as he kissed into Dean’s neck. He had his fingers twisted up with Dean’s

 

“Oh, Dean. So many cold showers since summer.” He was pressing harder and faster.

 

“Come on, I’ve got you,” Dean encouraged. He squeezed Cas’ hands in his. He rolled his own hips, adding to the friction. “I’ve so got you.” And Cas let go, and Dean felt the pleasure, warm and wet on him. Castiel collapsed on him and just laid there, breathing as much as he could.

 

Dean wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he was starting to notice the weight of Cas on his chest when he spoke. “Dean,” Cas whispered. “I don’t want you to leave.”

 

“The position we’re in right now, I’m pretty sure I’m stuck here.” Dean tried to laugh, but Cas was too heavy on his chest.

 

Cas rolled to the side. Everything was sticky and uncomfortable now. “I still want you to stay.”

 

“Can I go to your bathroom to clean up.” Dean dipped in and kissed Cas’ head.

 

“Of course, but only for a minute.” He winked. “I’m stingy.”

 

Dean rolled out of the bed and thanked whatever god was listening that his legs worked. He did what he could to clean himself up with the bare minimum of towels. When he was done, Cas used the room, but not before pointing at the bed for Dean to return to. “Yes, master.”

 

“Don’t do that. I might end up liking the authority.” Castiel snapped his ass with a towel as he went. Dean yelped, a very manly yelp.

 

Castiel came back to him. He curled into his side and sounded like he’d fall asleep in an instant. “I really needed this, Cas.” Castiel just hummed something that sounded like _me too._ Dean accepted that as he turned off the lights and breathed in Cas, all close and damn near perfect in his arms.

 

 

In the late morning, Dean cracked open his eyes. Cas was still there next to him, sleeping peacefully. Dean wondered if he could convince him to have another go. He rolled over and picked up his phone from off the nightstand. Several messages, but that was nothing new. He opened them up. Sam was at the top. _Where the hell are you?_

 

Scrolling through the rest told him that his brother was ready to leave New York. The sooner they get on the bus, the sooner they get home.

 

Ruby was in the mix too. _Deannnnnnnnnn, we want to go._

 

Dean read through the rest of the rather pointless messages, then he went to his news feed. There were pictures of the night before, of the various cities that did New Year’s Eve in a big way. He searched for his band and saw pics of them rocking it on stage. The comments seemed good, enthusiastic even. He searched for Fallen next and saw a lot of the same, but in the background he could see himself and Sam. It was nice seeing a little visual reminder of them out together last night.

 

“They saying good things about the performance?” Cas grumbled out as he rolled closer to Dean.

 

“Looks like everyone liked the performance. Having trouble finding any negatives in here.”

 

“That might be a first,” Castiel said as he pressed a kiss to Dean’s shoulder. “Breakfast here?”

 

“Is that a sentence?”

 

“I mean, should we order room service?” Castiel sent one eyebrow up into his hairline.

 

“Maybe. Sam wants to leave. I’m ignoring him for the time being.”

 

“If I had just a little breakfast in me, I could reward you for ignoring him.” Castiel let one hand slide under the sheets to Dean’s leg. He dragged his fingernails up his thigh, sending ticklish shivers up his whole body.

 

“Then you should definity order some food for us, and I'll definitely go on ignoring him.”

 

Dean went off to the bathroom. He could hear Castiel’s low rumble of a voice on the phone, placing the order. Cas had left some bruises on his hips. Dean ran his fingers over them, a little smile graced his lips. He wanted more of this, luxurious days or weeks of this right here. He needed a break and maybe Cas needed one too. They could find some spot to hole up in and just do some exploring.

 

 _Could we figure out how to do this without it being obvious?_ And that was the question. He wasn’t ready for more attention from the media. He had a reputation, and he was fine with that.

 

When he emerged from the bathroom, Cas was pulling on a shirt. “Throw something on in case the food gets here while I'm in the bathroom.” Cas moved past him into the bathroom and closed the door. Dean found his clothes scattered here and there but not his underwear. He carefully zipped up his jeans, not liking the commando business.

 

He straightened out his hair in the mirror and gave himself another once over. There was a knock on the door. Dean went to it. “That was fast,” he said as he opened it. Ruby and Sam stood on the other side.

 

“Found you. Fucking finally,” Sam said, pushing past him into the room.

 

Ruby added, “One down, one to go. You seen Michael since last night?”

 

“Just at the studio,” Dean said, pushing the door closed. “How'd you get up here?”

 

Sam tossed himself into the plush couch, long legs hanging over the arm of one end while his head was perched on the other. Ruby shoved his legs aside and sat too. “Easy when the security guard is a fan. Plus, he saw you come up with Cas last night.”

 

“So what'd you guys do after the ball drop?” Dean tried to redirect. It must now be plenty obvious that he slept here. He was even standing in the room in the same clothes he wore the night before.

 

Ruby said, “Sam and I got very shit-faced, then passed out in the room. News feeds are showing us mingling with fans and stumbling along the road that went back to the hotel.”

 

Sam added, “Bobby already called and chewed us out. We're ready to go.”

 

“And Michael is still unaccounted for?” Dean sat on the stool next to Cas’ small bar.

 

“Next stop is the room across the hall. That's where the rest of Castiel's band is.” Sam looked around and asked, “Speaking of, where is Castiel?”

 

As if summoned, Castiel chose that moment to emerge from the other room. “Why aren't you two here with breakfast?”

 

“Didn't know that was necessary,” Sam said.

 

“Even your brother hasn't gotten me food. Literally the least you all can do for taking up my space,” Castiel sounded grumpy. He wandered over to the bar and took up residence on the other stool.

 

“So you didn't stay here last night?” Sam asked as he looked at Dean.

 

“Cas let me have his couch. I really didn't want to have to listen to you two going at it like monkeys last night.”

 

“Offered him my bed, but your brother is a prude.” Castiel gave Dean a pointed look.

 

There was another knock at the door. This time the rest of Fallen along with Michael stood on the other side. Cas ushered them in. “We having a party in here?” Uriel asked.

 

“No, just many happy little visitors all showing up at once,” Cas was barely concealing his disappointment. Finally a third knock and breakfast arrived. Castiel dug in with no concern for the rest of his guests. Luc reached down to steal some toast only to have his hand slapped by Cas. “That's Dean's toast. Hands off.”

 

“Not like he's eating.” Luc waved a hand at Dean who hadn't moved from the stool.

 

“Dean eat,” Cas said in that commanding tone he'd used the other night. Dean complied.

 

While he ate, the awkward silence blanketed the room. It was like they had an audience. “This is weird. It's weird right?” Anna asked.

 

They all agreed. “Let's go back to our room. We can order breakfast over there,” Luc suggested. They all started to head out.

 

Sam and Ruby got off the couch together. Ruby reached down and pulled something out of the cushion. She held them up, a little gleam in her eyes. “Don't forget your underwear Dean.” She flung them at him, and they hit him in the face.

 

He could have denied that they were his, but who else wears boxer briefs with a full image of a bear on the front? He'd shown them off for days after he got them.

 

“Thanks Rubes. Was wondering where those went.” He gave her a wink, and she rolled her eyes as she and Sam left.

 

“So, this morning could have gone better,” Cas said around a bite of toast.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Guess this means even your brother doesn't get to know you like the occasional dick?” There was something in Castiel's tone. Dean wasn't sure if it was disappointment or irritation.

 

“I better go.” Dean got up suddenly. It was all more than he wanted to address. “Look, it was fun.”

 

Castiel cut him off with a dismissive hand wave. “Whatever, see you next summer at Cali or something.”

 

It bothered Dean. It really did, but he was too chicken-shit to do a damn thing about it. So instead, he stuffed the underwear in his pocket and left.

 

 

They were on the road, heading west. Castiel leaned his head against the window and watched the flat lands zip by. It all felt dull and lifeless. _Could have handled that better._ He told himself for the hundredth time.

 

 _Not like we're living in the dark ages though._ And then another voice that said, _Don't push._ Castiel remembered what it was like to be out in high school, to decide for himself that it was the best way. He knew what it meant for Dean that he wasn't there yet, a man of around thirty and still firmly in the closet.

 

 _Not for you._ He did his best to push aside the thoughts of that night, of Dean's wonderous green eyes locked onto his. Yes, it was quick and hot, but it was more than that too. It was the way Dean curled into him. It was the way he looked when he slept. Something in Castiel maybe broke a little that night as he stared down at Dean's sleeping face.

 

He had decided that being a confirmed bachelor was fine. He'd also decided that he didn't need the complications of a partner and family. He had the band, and that was enough.

 

Then he met Dean, and he began to want time to explore feelings that he felt bubbling away in his chest. He had Dean's number. _What good is that going to do me though?_

 

Anna came over and sat next to him, even pressing her own head against the glass to stare at him.

 

“What do you want, Anna?” Castiel didn't want to talk. His tone, he hoped, would discourage her.

 

She was made of sterner stuff. “Tell me what happened. And don't blow me off. I think we're too close to each other for that.”

 

“Are we close enough for me to say, I don't want to talk about it right now?” Castiel turned a little so he wouldn't have to face her.

 

“I think it would help you. Our last stop was not our best. Uriel had to do some covering for you.”

 

“I think I'm just tired. It's been a long tour.” _This is blowing her off._

 

“Cas.” She sounded annoyed. “Please.”

 

He sighed, knowing he wasn't getting out of this. He glanced back into the middle section of the bus where both Luc and Uriel were sleeping. “One should never dive into the closet for a hookup.”

 

“Dean?”

 

“Yeah.” They let the silence linger.

 

She took his hand and began massaging his palm. It was something she did for him in times of stress. The first time was in high school. It was senior year and neither of them knew what to do next. College acceptances were rolling in, but they couldn't commit when they didn't know what it was all heading toward. Castiel assumed that he was going to land in business, some sort of tax lawyer maybe.

 

As the time for making decisions loomed overhead, Castiel began to grow more and more anxious. It was then that Anna first began her comforting. They'd sat together and they'd talked. Sometimes they did not. Either way she'd rubbed away the tension in his hands.

 

“He could come around. Maybe he just needed to meet someone worth coming out for.”

 

Castiel sighed, “He has to do it for himself. If he doesn't, then it'll always be someone else that pushed him before he was ready. I don't want to be that guy.”

 

“I understand.” She took up his other hand now. “You really like him though.”

 

“I do. He's something special.”

 

“How so? I mean he is certainly lovely to look at, but…”

 

“There's more than that. He's funny and tender. He's had such a rough upbringing, and through all that he never stopped caring. He has known loss, and it didn't defeat him.” Castiel looked away, a blush rising to his cheeks with the confession. “I sound like an idiot.”

 

“You sound like you're feeling for him.” She stretched his hand and wrist. It felt nice. He carried discomfort there after a long tour, and this was a long tour. “Maybe you can just be his friend. Sounds like he needs that more than anything if he feels like he can't be himself. Guy's what, thirty?”

 

“Around there.” Castiel thought about that in the silence that followed. Dean likely did need a friend that wasn’t going to judge him, and for whatever reason he didn't have that in his life. “It's odd that he feels uncomfortable with his sexuality given who his adoptive father is.”

 

“Who adopted him?” Anna let go of Cas’ hands and leaned back into the seat.

 

“Bobby Singer,” Cas said.

 

Anna looked surprised. “You mean Crowley's Bobby?”

 

“Pretty sure Bobby would prefer that you not refer to him as a possession in this case.”

 

“Holy shit,” Anna said. “You think Dean doesn't know about that?”

 

“Anna, everyone knows about that. It was in the news.”

 

“TMZ is not news.” Anna rolled her eyes. “Really though, Cas. What if he doesn't know. What if he thinks all of that,” she made air quotes before continuing, “was just faked?”

 

“Or maybe it's not Bobby he's performing for.” Cas leaned back now. “Doesn't really matter who it was that made him feel like shit. He feels it. I also think you're right.”

 

“About which part?” She was grinning broadly, clearly loving the part where she was right.

 

“All of it maybe, but mostly about him needing a friend.” Cas looked away a moment then said, “Maybe I should have offered that first instead of the New Year's party at my place.”

 

“Might not be too late.”

 

Cas pulled out his phone and said, “Thanks, Anna.”

 

“You gonna call him?”

 

“No, I think I'm just going to text. Supposedly, emojis can do wonders.” Cas said all of this with absolute seriousness, so it was no wonder that Anna nearly died from laughing.

 

 

Dean was up late, working on the end of one of Sam's songs when his phone pinged. They were in some middle-of-America motel, and the Magic Fingers were calling him. There were flash flood warnings keeping them from traveling to an actual city, thus the less than ideal digs.

 

Dean flipped over the phone and checked the notification.

 

 **Cas** : :)

 

“Huh?” Dean just kept staring at the little smiley face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” No one was there to help. Dean made sure Michael didn't think this was a good time to bond or some shit, and Sam and Ruby were always happy to be in their own private space.

 

**Cas: Hello**

 

Dean had assumed that he'd ruined any shot at further communication. He sucked in a breath and typed a response.

 

**Dean: hello**

 

He was no Shakespeare, but apparently neither was Cas, so…

 

 **Cas:** **what town are you in**

 

**Dean: Don't know. Tons of rain. Had to stop driving early.**

 

**Cas: We're in Minneapolis.**

 

Dean flipped over one of the flyers on the nightstand to see where they were. They were supposed to be heading into Colorado, but he knew they were nowhere near there. The flyer had a picture of a lake on it. “Ironic.” Dean shook his head.

 

**Dean: Looks like we're in someplace near Paris, Oklahoma.**

 

Eventually Castiel replied.

 

**Cas: had to look it up. Sounds like you go to all the best places. Do they at least have croissants?**

 

**Dean: I think this might be biscuits and gravy country.**

 

**Cas: When will you be back in California?**

 

Dean had to pull up the calendar on his phone. So many more stops left. Fortunately though, they were all packed into just two more weeks.

 

**Dean: we'll be home at the end of March.**

 

**Cas: early April for us. We should get celebratory lunch together.**

 

**Dean: Is that a euphemism?**

 

**Cas: big word**

 

**Dean: Hey I read;)**

 

**Cas: not a euphemism. Just want to catch up. Thought we were friends or something like that.**

 

**Dean: we are I think**

 

Dean was reeling a little. He'd been worrying over running into Cas again. He thought that it'd be awkward at best. The way they parted felt like a dismissal. Dean understood. He knew he hadn't handled things well. This communication with Cas was giving him new hope though.

 

**Dean: so text when you get back and we'll meet up.**

 

**Cas: you got it. See you soon.**

 

 

The rest of the tour was a mess of days. Dean couldn't recall specifically any detail from any of the stops. It was all just yelling crowds, loud, fast songs, and falling back in the bus to do it all again the next day.

 

Getting back to L.A. was a quiet affair. The bus took them to the studio, then they were driven home from there by private drivers that Bobby had hired.

 

“See ya later bitch,” Dean grumbled as Sam climbed into his car.

 

“Jerk,” Sam mumbled, half asleep.

 

Michael came over and clapped Dean on the back. “Ya wanna go get a drink, celebrate our triumphant return?”

 

“Nah man. I wanna sleep like the dead for three years. How are you not beat?”

 

Michael shrugged. “Guess I'm just glad to be done for a bit.” Then he smirked and added, “Old man.”

 

“Rude.” Dean smiled and got in his car. “See ya.” He gave Michael a little wave.

 

Dean pulled out his phone as they drove toward home.

 

**Dean: just one mile from home**

 

Castiel didn't reply right away. Dean pocketed the phone. He wondered how he'd pass the time. Sleep was great, but he could already feel the antsy crawl up his spine. The tour had hard wired him for constant movement, constant action.

 

He arrived back at his building and made his way up to his place. Stepping into his room left him feeling empty. Everything was too quiet. He tossed his bags on the floor by his bed, stripped out of his clothes and crawled under the sheets. He hoped that sleep would overtake him.

 

His phone pinged a notification. Dean pulled the phone out and read.

 

**Cas: I'm in Vegas. Do you know how close that is to home?**

 

Dean sat up and typed.

 

**Dean: You could be home tomorrow then:)**

 

Cas didn't wait long to reply.

 

**Cas: Sadly no. Crowley has us going north Sacramento, San Jose, Oakland, and San Francisco. He even has us doing a PR thing in SF before we can go home.**

 

Dean got up and paced the room a little while reading Cas’ text.

 

**Dean: I could road trip out to Vegas. Might be fun.**

 

Cas didn't reply right away. Dean regretted everything. _What am I doing?_

 

**Cas: That's a long drive for literally none of my attention. We start performing in two hours. After that it's back in the bus for Sacramento. I don't even get to be a tourist.**

 

**Dean: bummer :(**

 

**Cas: you still want to get a bite when I get back**

 

**Dean: absolutely**

 

**Cas: good, see you in a week.**

 

Dean threw himself back on the mattress again. He was trying to think of ways to pass the week when his brain finally shut down, and he fell asleep.

 

 

Each city was like the last. By the time they got to San Francisco, Cas wasn’t even the grumpiest one on the bus. That prize went to Uriel. He yelled at Crowley over the phone and trashed a perfectly good hotel room. Luc may have helped with that.

 

Cas and Anna found moments to quietly commiserate. They were hanging out in Cas’ room, waiting for their handlers to take care of the Uriel drama. “We should skip the PR. One of us should claim a sickness that requires an immediate need for rest.”

 

“Who's gonna tell Crowley?” Cas raised a brow and looked like he was actually considering it.

 

Anna said, “I think you should. If it's any of us he won't buy it. You never back out of anything. You might even be a workaholic.”

 

“Despite what you think, I'm really entertaining this idea of yours. I feel like I haven't slept in months.”

 

“I miss Davy,” Anna sighed. Davy was her boyfriend and likely soon-to-be husband. “Phone sex is getting old.” She closed her eyes and asked, “So how's Dean?”

 

“So you think of sex and then Dean? Wow.”

 

“Don't get like that. How's it going?”

 

Now Cas sighed and threw his head against the chair back. “We text. We're going to get lunch or something when I get back.”

 

Anna hummed a little, then said, “You established new boundaries right?”

 

“I mentioned that we were friends now.”

 

Anna looked at him like she was trying to see beneath his surface. “So now he thinks you're friends with benefits. Not exactly the boundaries we discussed.”

 

“I'm done sleeping with him, so there's plenty of boundaries.” Cas got up too suddenly and nearly knocked over the chair. He went to the window to look out at the city. “He isn't ready for a relationship, and Lord knows I'm too old for hookups.”

 

“Keep reminding yourself of that.” Anna came to his side and pulled him into a sideways hug. “Love ya buddy.”

 

“Love ya too.”

 

 

The days passed, and Dean grew restless. Michael called and they went out one night. It felt weird though, like Michael was hitting on him or something. He declared that he was still exhausted and got out early.

 

By his count Cas wouldn't be home for another three days. They'd been texting nearly every night, most days too. Cas told him about how his band came together, his upbringing, his feelings on everything from bees to guinea pigs.

 

Dean shared too, but he avoided some things. He talked a lot about Sam and his life on the road, but he spared some details about his dad that might have been too telling. He griped and complained about Sam's relationship with Ruby. He talked about his car, a pristine ‘67 Chevy Impala.

 

They learned a lot about each other on those late nights, so much so that Dean found himself longing for Cas’ return a bit more than he thought reasonable.

 

“I need to get out of here,” Dean declared to his empty house. He made his way to the garage complex. He rarely chose to drive in L.A. It was just so frustrating. Today, though, he was willing to cope. When the engine roared to life, he knew he had made the right decision.

 

He took the surface streets away from his home. As he drew closer to the freeway, he rolled down the window. He'd decided on a general route. He'd go east toward the desert. The traffic would be lighter out there.

 

By the time he got to the 91 the tension seemed to fall off. Dean rummaged under the seat for a tape to pop into the deck. Finding a Zepp mixtape, Dean smiled. The volume was cranked way up and Dean started singing right from the middle of the song.

 

He drove for a half hour like that, then his phone started ringing. Dean snagged it off of the passenger seat and answered it. “Heya Cas!” Dean had to yell over the wind and song. He wedged the phone into his shoulder, and turned down the volume. “Can't hear you. Give me a sec.” Dean started rolling up the window. “That's better,” he proclaimed.

 

“Hello Dean,” Cas’ calm voice came to him.

 

“What city are you in today?” It was the same question her asked every time. He knew Cas was in San Francisco, but he asked anyway.

 

“I'm home,” Cas said.

 

“Well shit,” Dean breathed out. “Three days early.

 

“Where are you?”

 

“I was going stir crazy,” Dean said as he took an exit. There was a burger joint up ahead. He pulled into their lot. “I decided to take a drive.”

 

“Oh, guess I can't ask you to lunch today then.”

 

“You just got home.”

 

Cas sighed and said, “I still gotta eat.” Then, after a pause. “Where did you drive off to?”

 

“I'm currently parked in front of some old burger joint called Hanks.”

 

“Home of the original pizza burger?” Cas asked.

 

“Yeah, you've heard of it?”

 

Cas laughed and said, “You're in my neighborhood.” Then Cas rattled off an address that Dean had to jot down. “So I'll see you in minutes.”

 

“What were the odds?”

 

“I'm still going to want lunch, just so you know.”

 

“Of course,” Dean said, then hung up.

 

The drive was as quick as Cas had made out. He pulled up to a big iron gate that was between two adobe pillars. Dean was about to tap the intercom, but the gate opened before he could. The driveway was short and ended at the front of the house.

 

Cas met him on the front stoop. “And here I thought it'd be hours before lunch.”

 

“Well that's a nice hello.” Dean was all smiles though, and everything felt warm and good. Sometimes when they spoke on the phone, Dean felt like his stomach was going mad. He felt like everything was heightened. He kept telling himself he was too old for all these feelings.

 

They'd been staring at each other for a few moments. Then Cas drew closer to him and pulled Dean into a hug. For a split second, Dean thought that he was going in for a kiss. He was ready for it, right there under the pale blue sky. But then it was a hug, a good hug that became a great hug. Cas’ arms were strong and tightly wrapped around him. Cas’ fingers dug into the backs of Dean's shoulders a little too. Dean let his face press into the crook of Cas’ neck.

 

“Missed you,” Cas breathed into Dean's hair. He let Dean go a moment later. Dean felt his smile, all big and goofy. Cas returned it to him with as much enthusiasm. “Want the grand tour?”

 

“Of course.” Dean stepped to Cas’ side. Cas clapped him on the shoulder and directed him through the door.

 

He showed Dean room after room, some barely furnished, some ornately decorated. Cas’ art was as eclectic as he was. The large Pollock that hung in one room begged for more attention, but Cas was already moving Dean on to another room.

 

Dean kept thinking that they'd end up seeing a bedroom at some point, but none materialized. There was a second floor that they didn't visit. It was likely where those bedrooms were.

 

Dean was already imagining how he'd handle being in that space. He wanted another shot, a chance to handle this thing with Cas like a mature adult and not the kid that was terrified of his father's opinion. He wasn't ready to be out, but he was certainly ready to drop to his knees and give Cas a little worshipful attention.

 

They went out the back door of the house to Cas’ pride and joy, his extensive backyard. “I spend as much time out here as possible.” Cas said as he waved a hand out at the stretch of land. There was a pool and some very tall trees lining the whole fence. There were wild flowers and benches here and there. In the distance were some beehives. Dean reached out to him and curled their fingers together.

 

“It's really nice. Do you get many media people out here stalking you?”

 

“Not so much. I agree to their interviews and pose for their pictures. If they come around here, I give them nothing. I cut off _Access_ _Hollywood_ last year when they sent a guy to my gate. He was climbing all over my fences to take pictures of my yard.

 

Dean let Cas’ hand go. “It's the one thing that bothers me about the fame. You never get to have privacy again. There's nothing that's just mine anymore.”

 

“Them's the breaks kiddo.” Cas smiled at him.

 

“Kiddo? You're not old enough to call me that.”

 

“I feel old,” Cas complained. “I'm also hungry. Take me to lunch in that fancy car of yours.”

 

Dean bowed and said, “As you wish.”

 

 

“This is amazing!” Dean declared around a mouthful of taco. Cas had directed him to a small taqueria not far from his home. They had tucked back into the corner of the bright painted building. There were people eating outside, but inside the restaurant was quiet and empty.

 

“It's my favorite place for a quick bite.” They both reached into the chip basket at the same time, fingers brushing just a little.

 

Dean felt the tell tale flutter in his stomach again. Cas just kept setting off one tempest after another within Dean. “I'm sure glad this worked out.”

 

“Me too. I'm also glad that we became friends. I don't exactly socialize much outside of the band.” Cas took another chip and ate it.

 

“Sammy's always worrying that I don't meet people. I haven't told him much about how we've been talking.”

 

“Amongst other things,” Cas added.

 

“Yeah, ‘bout that,” Dean started. He stopped though, and licked his lips. “I um…”

 

“Have regrets,” Cas supplied.

 

“Not what I was going to say.” Dean stopped again though. Cas set a hand on his. Dean glanced around, a bit of panic tickling up his spine. Dean slipped his hand away from Cas. “I'm not,” Dean started again.

 

After a too long pause, Cas broke in with, “Are you trying to tell me you're not gay?”

 

“I'm not exactly.” He licked his lips again and looked down. “I'm not comfortable with people knowing about my private life.”

 

“Closeted then. I pretty much guessed that.”

 

“I like chicks. Boobs are great. Like this,” Dean waved his hands between them, “I'm not sure what this is.”

 

Cas pushed away from the table and said, “I think I need to be getting back home. You mind?”

 

Dean got up and followed him out to the Impala. “Cas,” Dean started.

 

“Don't worry about it Dean. Your secrets safe with me. I'm not going to go out and tell people about our one hookup. It doesn't have to be a big deal.”

 

“I fucked up didn't I?”

 

“You just have a lot going on in your head right now. But yeah, you did a little.” Cas laughed and added, “I was like that in the beginning too. If it weren't for Anna and Uriel, I don't know who I'd be right now.”

 

Dean was practically on autopilot as they drove back to Castiel's home. They got to the gate and stopped. “Is there a number I need to punch in?”

 

“4257*,” Castiel said. Dean punched in the code and waited for the gate to slide open. “Come in.” Castiel said as Dean pulled up to the front of the house. Castiel didn't give him time to respond as he was already out the door.

 

Dean followed him in. Each step was more reluctant than the last. “Cas, I think I'm just gonna go.”

 

“Sit,” Cas said, pointing at a simple grey couch in one of his living spaces. Dean did as he was told, then Cas came to the couch, hesitated, then sat at his side. He turned to face Dean, their knees pressing together as he did. “I want us to be friends.”

 

“Okay.” Dean was trying to figure out where this was going. He thought this was it, done, blammo, finito.

 

“You need a friend, just like I did in high school. And Lord knows I need a friend too. You were the only one that kept me sane during the end of that last tour.”

 

“I don't think I'd have gotten through either to be honest. It was hell.”

 

“So we pulled each other out of our own little hells and now we're gonna let a little awkwardness at lunch end this good thing?” Cas waited a moment for Dean to respond, but Dean didn't have words. “Hell no. Be my friend Dean.”

 

“Okay. I mean, like are you saying, friends or like _friends?”_ Dean threw emphasis on that last word. Cas didn't seem to follow. He just stared at Dean past a squint. “Like with benefits?”

 

“Oh.” Cas picked up Dean's hand and kissed the back of his fingers. Then he just held Dean's hand there a moment in both of his breathing over Dean's knuckles. “You're stunning, and sex with you was spectacular.”

 

Dean let out a nervous little chuckle. “Well, thanks buddy.”

 

“But I don't sleep with closeted men.”

 

“Oh,” Dean muttered as he started to pull his hand away. Cas held on though. “Guess the sex was…”

 

Cas didn't let him finish. “It was perfect. I've never come so fast.” Cas looked away, a shyness taking over his features. “I can be your friend.”

 

“I don't get why you'd want that. I mean, we had a good time, I am certainly willing to do more of that.” Dean stopped. He sounded desperate, and truth be told he maybe was. He'd thought of almost nothing but Cas coming home, of him being in Dean's spaces. Now here he was, holding Dean's hand and it felt like an end.

 

“I'm one of those people that is attracted to the person. Gender just doesn't matter to me. The first time I saw you perform was on TV, some late night talk show, I think. I wanted to meet you. Talked about you endlessly, drove everyone nuts. Then, there you were borrowing my guitar and…” Cas took a deep breath. I was attracted to your talent, enough so that I wanted to get much closer to you.

 

“Well, mission accomplished there.” Dean smirked.

 

“A single hookup with an attractive man, I was down with that. Hell, Uriel had something in every stop, so why not me?” Castiel sighed. “But then we had dinner. We talked. God, you were stunning. I found you, actual you, attractive.”

 

“So, why didn't things go down at the Ranch?”

 

“Kinda thought you were closeted. Then New Year's happened, and I thought, maybe he isn't as closeted as I thought, just inexperienced. So I went for it.”

 

“And now you have regrets?’ Dean asked.

 

“Only that I can't go back in time and slug the person who made you feel like you had to cover up who you are.”

 

Dean got up then and paced a little. “So how does this work?”

 

“Not sure. I think we just do what we've been doing, minus the sex.” Castiel got up and stood in his path. “Will that work for you?”

 

Dean let his eyes drift up to Cas’ own. There was so much sincerity there. _How can I say no?_ _No Cas it really doesn't work. I just want to touch you. I can't._ Then he pulled back those thoughts. Cas said he needed this. “Of course.”

 

And with that Cas pulled him into another one of those perfect hugs, the kind that is warm all the way to the core. Dean said into Cas’ hair, “I'm not ready to be alone.”

 

“Me either. Guess that makes us perfect for each other.”

 

Dean breathed in deep. “Guess so.”

 

And they held onto each other for a long time like that. Dean thought of the other people in his life, the ones they called family despite the lack of a blood tie. Even they didn't hug like this. Dean knew this was different, knew this wasn't mere friendship, but he didn't care. He was gonna take this thing Cas was offering him, because the alternative was nothing at all.

 

 

Dean didn't talk about his friendship with Cas, not with Bobby, not with Sam or the band, not even with Ellen when she came by and asked what was up. She always did seem to know when things were not like they should be. He laughed off her questions though and got her talking about Jo instead.

 

As the weeks passed, Dean settled into a quiet routine. He spent some time each weekday working on new music. A couple of times per week he shared a meal with Sam. Those meals now included Ruby, every one of them.

 

And then his weekends were filled with Cas. They did little things that didn't have to be planned. Dean showed up at Cas’ place and they went shopping. Cas showed up at Dean's place and they grabbed lunch. It was all pretty casual.

 

Then Castiel had to go out of town for a weekend, something having to do with an interview in New York to promote the new single or something. This threw Dean into a bit of a tailspin. He had patterns now. What was he going to do now that he had a Cas-free weekend?

 

He handled Saturday with the help of Michael and drinking on Friday, regrets. But Sunday was miserable. He went on an actual jog. He hadn't done that in years, regrets. Then he cleaned his penthouse. That at least was satisfying. Then he realized that he still had an entire afternoon left, plus an evening to kill.

 

With too much time to think, Dean changed into a pair of board shorts and a loose tank top and got into his car. He headed for the desert, to Cas’ home. He figured if he couldn't hang with the guy, at least he could hang in his spaces. It didn't feel strange. Somehow it felt all kinds of right.

 

When he got to the house, he punched in the code for the gate and parked in his usual place. The pool in the back beckoned. Dean got some towels out of the pool house. He even found a nice floaty thing and cold beers in the fridge.

 

Yes he could have gone swimming in the pool at home, but this was nicer. This was private. Dean tossed the floaty into the water, set his beer near the edge, then jumped in. It felt wonderful. The sun was scorching hot overhead, and the water was just cool enough to be refreshing.

 

Dean swam a few laps, then got on the floaty. He paddled over to the edge and got his beer. This was nice. _Damn near perfect. Too bad Cas isn't home yet._

 

 

Cas got home early Sunday. He'd considered asking Dean for a ride home. He'd only been gone since Friday though, and he didn't want to come off as needy. He did miss him. It was strange how fast things had developed between them. Dean had been good about accepting the boundaries of friendship, and Cas found himself benefiting from the arrangement in equal measure.

 

Dean noticed things like how much Cas wasn't eating or sleeping. He did his best to set Cas on good paths. He was an excellent listener and offered up oddly good advice. It was odd to Cas only because Dean didn't seem to have much in the way of good thoughts for himself. Those thoughts were for everyone else, apparently.

 

So when the opportunity to take a red-eye home came up, Cas took it. It got him home way earlier than he'd planned, but the thought of getting to see Dean before the long week sucked up their time held more appeal than sleep on Saturday night.

 

It was a pleasant surprise to come home to the sight of the familiar black car parked in front of his house. He got out of the hired car that he’d used to get home from the airport, and the driver retrieved his bag. Cas slung it over his shoulder and tipped the man handsomely.

 

Castiel didn't call out to Dean as he entered the house. He just tossed his bag on the stairs and went on a hunt for him. There was a spring in his step, and a smile that was hurting his cheeks a little spread across his face. Dean wasn't in the house.

 

Finally he looked out the back window, and there was Dean diving into his pool. His body was beautiful. He began swimming laps, and Cas couldn't look away. _God, good God._ It was a lot to take in.

 

Although he had set the friendship boundary, he was still human. This vision was testing his resolve. He decided that he should not go out there yet. He didn't have that much self-control. Dean eventually got himself onto the floaty and Cas thought that staring any longer would be weird.

 

He went upstairs and changed into some swim trunks. _I can do this._ Cas walked out into his yard like it was perfectly normal to find Dean there. “No, no you make yourself at home!” Cas declared as he made his way to the poolside.

 

Dean almost fell off the floaty. “You're home!” Dean paddled over to the edge, just beneath Cas’ feet.

 

“Guess you missed me,” Castiel winked and then realized that he was flirting. He'd tried to curb that behavior. It was unfair to both of them. Dean didn't seem to notice though.

 

“You got your phone on you?”

 

“No, why are…” Cas didn't get to finish the thought as Dean was pulling him into the pool.

 

“Welcome home, buddy.” Cas was sputtering just a little when Dean greeted him.

 

“This what you've been doing since I left, drinking my beers and swimming in my pool?”

 

“Just got the idea today. Shoulda done this Saturday too.” Dean tipped back and dipped his head under. He looked like a Greek god coming up out of the water. “Made the mistake of going out with Michael on Friday. We drank way too much.”

 

Castiel became concerned. He didn't like Michael, but he couldn't put his finger on a good reason why. _It's because he likes Dean,_ his brain supplied.

 

“Did he flirt with you again?” Castiel asked in what he thought was his most neutral tone.

 

It apparently wasn’t as neural as he thought, because Dean waggled his brows and said, “Someone's jealous.”

 

“Not jealous, concerned.”

 

“You had your chance,” Dean joked.

 

“Look, I’m just looking out for you. He doesn’t seem to have good boundaries.” Castiel swam to the edge of the pool where Dean had set down his beer. He stole a sip from it.

 

Dean swam over to join him. “You don’t need to worry about him. Not like he’s going to take advantage of me or something. We’re in the same band, and…” Dean paused for effect before adding, “I’m not interested in him.”

 

“Well, if you’re going out drinking with him, he gains an advantage that he might try to exploit. Just be careful. I think he’s not so different from our Luc.”

 

“Speaking of, did they?” Dean asked.

 

“In New York?” Castiel asked.

 

Dean nodded and said, “I mean it seemed like that was a thing.”

 

“I think so, but at the time, my attentions were elsewhere. Anna said they did.” Castiel kicked off the wall that they had been leaning on in order to float on his back for a few minutes. Dean splashed him. Clearly, this was not going to be a relaxing visit to his pool.

 

Castiel treaded water for a moment and considered strategies for sinking Dean in the pool. First  he sent a little splash of water his way. Dean dove under the water and swam right for him, pulling Castiel’s legs  out from under him. Dean let him go, and Cas rose to the surface. He pounced on Dean then and shoved his head under the water. It devolved into a mess of roughhousing after that, one of them shoving the other under then reciprocation.

 

Castiel took pride in the moment though when Dean called for a truce. “Sure glad I came home early for all this peacefulness,” Cas said with a grin.

 

“You love it.” Dean hung off the edge of the big yellow float. Cas swam over to the opposite side. They stared at each other across the space. Castiel’s heart was hammering in his chest from the playing before. Occasionally, he would feel the brush of Dean’s leg under the water. “Do you have an early morning tomorrow?”

 

“Nah, just the normal studio time with the band. We’re working on a new thing. I’ll play it for you next weekend if all goes well.”

 

Dean grinned ear to ear. “Never thought I’d be in this position, getting early previews of Fallen’s unreleased tracks.”

 

“It’s nice to be special.” Castiel reached over and ruffled Dean’s wet hair.

 

Dean shrugged him away with a cute little scowl. He was all smiles a moment later. “Maybe we should have a movie night.”

 

“Got something you want to watch?”

 

“Nothing in particular. We could just watch one of the _Avengers_ or _Captain America_ movies _._ ”

 

“Sounds like a plan. I’m just waiting for the jetlag to kick in. Staying up to the normal time with a film will likely ease me back into a normal schedule.”

 

They swam around for a little longer, playfully sending a little splash here and there at each other but nothing that would lead to all-out war. Eventually, Cas got out of the pool and used one of Dean’s towels to dry off. When he turned to the pool, he noticed that Dean was staring at him. It was a look that could be followed up on. It was a hungry look. Castiel felt everything in him head south. He turned away from Dean as he dried his hair.

 

“Feel free to steal some sweatpants and a shirt when you come in,” Cas said as he left Dean behind. Distance was needed to conceal the effects of seeing Dean like that.

 

They each found spaces to change. When Cas found Dean, he was in one of the rooms off the kitchen. There was a large flat screen television on the wall. Dean had told him in the early days that the room had great acoustics. Cas already knew that. The room also had the most comfortable couch. “Want me to pop up some popcorn?” Dean asked.

 

“Sure. You gonna make me dinner later too. I think you owe me a burger,” Castiel was referring to an earlier conversation where Dean had bragged about how he made sinfully good burgers.

 

“You got the ingredients I need?”

 

“Yeah, I went shopping on Thursday.”

 

Dean roamed off to investigate. Not long after he left, Cas heard the popcorn popping. He settled into the couch and pulled a blanket over himself. It wasn’t cold, but he liked the coziness of the blanket and the dark room. Dean had _Winter Soldier_ queued up on the screen. “Have I seen this one before,” Castiel asked.

 

“You said you hadn’t,” Dean replied as he walked into the room with a heaping bowl of popcorn. Dean sat down right next to Cas and started munching. “You gonna hit play?”

 

“Sorry, I thought you would.” Cas reached over to the table and picked up the remote. He started the movie. He dipped his hand into the popcorn bowl on Dean’s lap and started eating. They finished the popcorn before they were even through the first 15 minutes of the film.

 

Dean stretched, and his back popped. It drew Castiel’s eyes to him. They were close, and now Dean had pulled the age-old stretch and place move. His arm was resting behind Cas’ shoulders. _Friends did this._ Castiel found that he was telling himself that a lot lately. Usually it was a lie. He chose to ignore the warnings though. The feeling that he was letting things happen that were far from just friendly seemed like a path toward complications, but he liked being close to Dean. Truth be told, he liked it a lot.

 

Dean was charming and kind. He was attentive and sweet in a way that made Cas feel special. He’d had tons of attention over his many years as a performer, but that attention always felt like it was fleeting and shallow. What Dean offered was something deeper, an attention that was selfless and warm.

 

In the midst of his thoughts, much of the movie had progressed. Dean got up and stretched again, setting the bowl on the table. “You need me to pause it?” Cas asked.

 

“Nah, just popping my back. I slept on it wrong, and now it’s all out of whack.” He looked back down to the couch. “Mind if I stretch out on here next to you?”

 

The couch was certainly long enough. “Go ahead.” Castiel scooted closer to the edge of the couch to give Dean enough room. Dean was tall, and he had other intentions. He laid on the couch and set his head on Castiel’s leg.

 

“This okay, buddy?” Dean asked. He’d been throwing buddy onto a lot of sentences lately, as if to remind them of their status.

 

“Sure. You comfortable?”

 

“It’s better.”

 

Castiel had nowhere to put his one arm except on Dean. So he settled it over Dean’s chest. It felt way too intimate. “I feel like I’m missing back story on this relationship,” Castiel said, directing their attention back to the film.

 

“Bucky was his best friend from a long time ago. Cap thought he was dead, but he wasn’t. He was part of an experiment that made him into the Winter Soldier. There all caught up.”

 

Cas stared down at Dean. “They were close?”

 

“Very. People write stories online about them being lovers and stuff. Nothing in the comics about that, but there’s definitely subtext.”

 

Castiel just hummed and turned his attention back to the screen. There was an epic fight. Somehow, Castiel’s hand had drifted to Dean’s head. He was stroking his fingers through Dean’s hair, giving little scratches to his scalp. When the movie ended, they let the credits play through for the end scene, then it went back to the still title screen. Dean rolled over a little and stared up at Cas. His eyes seemed to glow more in the illumination from the screen. Castiel’s hand had slid away from his head. He could feel the steady drum beat of Dean’s heart under his hand. It was music that Castiel was falling for. His eyes, traitors, swept over Dean’s body. Dean’s sweatpants, rather Cas’ sweatpants that Dean was borrowing, were too tight on him. They revealed more about Dean’s state than Cas should know. Cas couldn’t look away, and yet Dean was watching him not look away.

 

Dean got up. “I’ll go start on those burgers.”

 

Cas stayed on the couch, not wanting to move. He was half hard and struggling to just function. _Boundaries._

 

He could hear Dean setting up in the kitchen. Pans were clattering, the fridge was opening and closing, and Cas wanted nothing more than to satisfy a different hunger. _You could._ His brain was not his friend. He eventually shut off the TV and went to the kitchen. Dean was already cooking up the first patties. Castiel’s stomach gave up a mighty growl.

 

“Guess you were starving huh?” Dean smirked. He poked Cas in the belly. “You’re gonna love these.” Cas took up residence at one of the counter stools and watched Dean work. He could have offered help, but he knew Dean wanted to do this. He’d been talking about it for weeks now.

 

“So this is gonna be better than Hank’s burgers?” Hank's was the local burger joint. It was quite good. He’d gone there with Dean. It was what spawned Dean’s proclamations of being the best burger maker ever.

 

“It’s going to be awesome.”

 

It was relaxing watching Dean cook. Cas felt the trip and the work of the past week slip away. He wanted this. He wanted to come home to this sort of thing everyday. _And why can’t we have this?_ He asked himself this question all the time. He knew why. He knew that it would never work in secret. Dean eventually slid a burger over to him and another to the spot next to him.

 

“So, I was wondering,” Dean began.

 

“Yeah,” Cas said, picking up the burger for the first bite.

 

“Would you mind letting me borrow the guitar again?” It was clear what guitar he meant. “I want to get a copy made. I just don’t think I’ll ever find a guitar I like more than that one.”

 

Cas had been meaning to just give it to him. “Sure.” Cas took a bite. “God this is good,” he said around a bite.

 

Dean was beaming. “Awesome, right?”

 

“So awesome.” Cas was devouring the burger. Being around Dean had killed some of his table manners, but who cared. “This is amazingly good. You can have the guitar by the way.” It was all delivered around several bites of burger.

 

Dean was staring at him. “You don’t mean that.”

 

“What?” Cas set down the burger and wiped his hands.

 

“The guitar. You don’t give away a guitar like that.”

 

“You do, if you like the person well enough. I like you well enough, Dean. Take the guitar.”

 

“I…” Dean seemed to be struggling. “I don’t think I should. I mean…”

 

“Dean,” Castiel turned on his stool to really face him. “I don’t use her. You will. Seems a shame to not have her getting played. Take her when you go tonight.”

 

“Cas.”

 

“Dean,” Castiel mimicked him. Castiel took a deep breath and said, “You act like no one has ever given you something. I assure you I can afford this gift.”

 

“It’s not that. I know she’s special.” Dean got up and took his plate back to the kitchen. He had his hands braced on the counter. He wasn’t looking at Cas. “Sometimes I don’t get you.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The tone in the room had shifted. Cas wondered where the shift had come from. He waited for Dean to respond, but instead, Dean seemed to be breathing raggedly at the counter.

 

“Dean?” Cas was going to get up, but something held him where he was.

 

“Do you give all of your friends fancy guitars?” Dean asked just above a whisper.

 

“I don’t really have any friends beyond you and my band.”

 

“Do you touch your friends the way you touch me?” Dean still wasn’t looking at him.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You know what I mean, Cas.” Dean did look up then. Something about him seemed a little wrecked. Castiel felt a sudden wash of guilt run over him. He’d been sending mixed signals all along.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Dean’s shoulders fell. He turned back to the counter. A little snort of derision left him. “Sorry,” Dean repeated.

 

“I haven’t been fair. I set the boundary, and then let it be confusing. I’ll do better.”

 

Dean was still standing there. His head dipped down to his chest. “I don’t want that,” Dean whispered again. It was a quiet confession.

 

Castiel slid off the stool and came around the counter. He leaned into the space next to Dean, hoping for some eye contact. “Dean.”

 

Dean stopped him though. “How would you feel if I watched movies with Michael?”

 

Cas stiffened at his side. “I suppose that’d be your choice.”

 

“Not an answer, Cas.” Dean did look at him now. “How would you feel,” he repeated. Cas didn’t answer, so Dean went on. “How would you feel if I told you that we watched a movie together and I laid my head in his lap? How would you feel if I told you that he touched me, stroked my hair, held me?”

 

Castiel let the image play out in his mind, Michael having Dean like that. He felt his hands curl into fists at his sides.

 

“He does want me. He’d take me if I let him.” Dean’s words made something twist in Castiel’s stomach.

 

 _No._ Dean looked away from Cas back to the counter. “I don’t want him to have you.” The confession felt wrung out, twisted from Castiel’s mouth against his will.

 

“Why not? No one else wants me.”

 

It was a manipulation, and Castiel knew it. Frankly, he didn’t care though. He had been good for so long now, and here was this man that he wanted, a man that wanted him too. _Fuck._ Castiel moved to Dean’s back and pressed his body to him. He dragged his hands up Dean’s arms and gripped him just below his shoulders. Dean bared his neck to Cas, an invitation that Cas wanted to take. He was already breathing raggedly as Cas pressed in closer. Cas kissed his neck, tasted Dean's skin that still tasted of their swim earlier.

 

“Cas,” Dean breathed out. “I want you.”

 

Cas turned him and pressed back in again. Dean was rock hard. Castiel began pulling off Dean’s clothes. A shirt was dropped to the floor, followed by his own. He reached into the front of Dean’s sweats with two fingers and pulled Dean after him to the stairs. They went up to Cas’ room.

 

Each step was difficult, because Dean's mouth never left him. Somehow they were on the bed. Castiel was looking down at Dean, trying to figure out what to give, what to take. “What?” Cas asked.

 

“You know what I want,” Dean said as he stretched up to Cas’ mouth for another kiss. “Stop thinking about it all so damn much.”

 

He pulled off Dean's pants, leaving him naked and beautiful. He got off the bed and removed the last of his own clothes next. His nightstand was right there, but all he wanted to do was just stare at Dean, drink in all of the miracle that was him in this bed. Dean rolled onto his side and stared right back.

 

“I don't really know what you want?” Castiel finally said.

 

“You got what we need, condoms and whatnot?” Dean asked.

 

Cas just nodded and then retrieved said items from the nightstand. He stood next to the bed with them and continued to stare down at Dean. _This isn't a hookup._ His brain was being helpful again. _You sleep with him, and it will mean something._

 

Castiel dropped the condoms and lube onto the bed. Dean sat up on the edge and faced Cas. He reached out and put his hands on Cas’ hip pulling him closer. Dean nuzzled in, peppering Cas’ stomach with ticklish kisses. The goal was there bobbing away, untouched. Dean looked up at him past thick lashes with eyes that Cas couldn't look away from. Dean's smile was at first sweet and maybe a little innocent, and then it wasn't.

 

Dean dipped his head and dragged his lips to the goal. When he took Cas in, it was enough to spark his brain to action again. _It has all meant something. It'll always mean something with him._ And all Castiel could do now was shut off that thinking part of himself or end this. He didn't want to end this. Dean's tongue was velvety smooth and performing miracles.

 

Eventually, Dean released him and moved back onto the bed, beckoning him to join him. Castiel settled between his legs and kissed him more. His hands roamed Dean's body, mapped out every ridge and groove.

 

Dean tensed when Cas fingers moved between Dean's legs. “I'll go slow,” Castiel whispered into Dean's ear. “If you don't like it, just tell me. There's plenty we can still do.”

 

Dean said, “I want this, you.” Then he kissed Castiel hard and desperate.

 

Castiel gave him what he wanted, opening him up slowly. He kissed him through all of it, and when Dean was ready, squirming and begging for him, Castiel stopped and eased back to take in the vision again. “You're beautiful like this.”

 

“God, Cas. Come on,” Dean begged. Castiel gave in. Pressing into Dean slowly, his brain kicked in again. _He still won't want people to know. This won't change him._ Castiel closed his eyes and moved just slightly in and out. Dean's breathing was rough. “More,” Dean begged again.

 

After that, Castiel opened his eyes. If he was going to ruin everything, he was going to watch. He was going to commit everything Dean did to memory. He'd relive each gasp, each subtle movement. He picked up the pace, and Dean met each thrust with enthusiasm.

 

There was a moment before the end when Cas pulled Dean up to his lips by his neck. He kissed him deeply. Dean came then, gasping and holding onto Cas’ arms. He let Dean slip free of his mouth so he could look at him up close as his own moment arrived. He could count the freckles on him.

 

When he finished they fell back onto the bed together. Dean nuzzled up into Cas’ side. “You're my best friend.”

 

Castiel laughed. “You do this with all your friends?”

 

“No, you're special.” Dean kissed whatever skin was near his lips, Cas’ neck, his shoulder. “It's different when you know the person, really know them.”

 

Castiel pulled back a bit and looked at him. “This a new realization or just a general point?”

 

Dean looked away. “New.”

 

“Oh.” Cas pulled him back close and held him. He stroked Dean's back with gentle fingers. His brain decided that more needed to be considered. _What have you done now Castiel? What have you done now?_

 

 

Dean didn't stay the night, but he did use Cas’ shower, and Cas did join him. They didn't talk about what it meant or if it changed things. It had to change everything. Dean drove home in a fog of thoughts about Cas, about how different it was from everything he'd done before, and also about how much he wanted to keep it.

 

It would be a long week. They were back in the studio, and so was Cas. There would be no time to get together. Dean was already trying to work out a way to make time materialize in their schedules. He was failing epically.

 

More importantly they were just weeks from the Grammys, and Dean needed to get his head in the game. They had to rehearse like their lives depended on it. They had to get fitted for their suits. Ruby had it worse. Figuring out the gown portion was way more complicated.

 

**Dean: What're you wearing to the Grammys?**

 

He didn't expect Cas to reply back right away. Fallen was set to perform at the Grammys too. Both of their bands had been blessed with excellent years. Sales were through the roof for both of them. They were also going up against each other for song of the year.

 

**Cas: I'm going in Tom Ford, grey and black plaid. The jacket is more like a trench coat. You?**

 

**Dean: Still deciding. I think I'm going with Brunello Cucinelli. He had a suit that was just odd enough.**

 

**Cas: Can't wait to see it. Wish we could sit together, go in together.**

 

**Dean: They've got our bands together. Bet they pan from your faces to ours during the announcement.**

 

Dean had thought about that. He wanted to win, but at the same time he was rooting for Cas. He wanted to be able to celebrate with him afterwards too. It had been implied that they would. Dean's place made sense as it was near everything, but Cas hadn't stayed overnight there yet.

 

**Cas: I miss you.**

 

They still hadn't talked about it. Dean worried about that inevitable conversation. Cas expected him to change. It was only fair that he change. Dean just couldn't get his head in the game though. Every time he even considered coming out to even just Sam or Bobby, he about caved in on himself.

 

**Dean: miss you too**

 

**Cas: be my date to the Grammys**

 

It wasn't the first time he'd asked. Dean had avoided the answers though.

 

**Dean: you know I can't**

 

Dean was met with silence, no follow up, no sign that he'd even read the text. He had. Dean knew that he had. _What could he say?_

 

 

The night of the Grammys included far more than one would assume even from all of the glitz and glamour seen on the television screens. There were interviews in the morning, fittings in the early afternoon, dress rehearsals, performance rehearsals. And if that wasn't enough to wear one out there were a whole stream of after parties to plan for too.

 

There would also be fans. They'd line the street and the walkway into the main event. It was that part that Dean hadn't considered nearly enough.

 

Winchester arrived on the red carpet just after Fallen. “Fuck yeah!” Ruby hollered as the limo came to a stop. She seized Dean's arm then Sam's. “We fucking did it guys.” Michael leaned in and hugged her and Dean all at once.

 

“This is it. I don't think it gets any better,” Michael said. He was dressed in a crisp, white suit.

 

They got out, and the cameras were flashing away. Fans called out to them, holding out things, flowers, signs, pads of papers for autographs. Dean signed a few and even posed for pictures with some of the young people. Then he spotted Cas.

 

 _Wow!_ Castiel was wearing the long black and grey plaid that he'd described. He also had the collar popped. Dean broke away from his band to get closer to Cas. “Hey, buddy,” Dean greeted him.

 

“Hey yourself,” Cas said back with a grin. He turned his attention back to a boy, maybe 17 if Dean had to guess.

 

“I can't thank you enough for everything you do. You can't possibly know what a difference you make.” Castiel really focused on the boy.

 

“I can't imagine I do much. Spend most of my time yelling words into a mic is all.”

 

Dean almost laughed at that. He was absentmindedly signing autos while Castiel listened.

 

“It’s more than that. I wouldn't be here.” The boy took Castiel's hand. Security started to move in, but Castiel waved them off.

 

“What do you mean,” he asked gently.

 

“I'm gay, and you made that okay. I spent my whole life feeling like I was worthless, being told that to my face, but if you could be like me even a little, maybe I wasn't worthless. You know what I mean?”

 

Castiel held the boy's hand in both of his. “I know exactly what you mean. At the same time, I want you to know you are worth so much even without me in the picture. Love is love no matter where it comes from or who you give it to.”

 

Dean felt the words burrowing into him. The boy was crying now. Cas pulled him into a hug before moving on. Dean could see that the encounter rattled Cas. They got through the posing and the endless photos. Dean broke away from his band again for a moment to pull Cas aside. “You okay?”

 

“I will be. Just gotta get through tonight.” Castiel looked sad.

 

“You can tell me,” Dean said.

 

“I just…” Cas looked away back to the door. “That boy, he's here because I am open about who I am.”

 

“Yes, he is,” Dean agreed. He'd heard it all. There was no denying it.

 

“I can't hide who I am.” He stared at Dean as if waiting for him to challenge the idea “I can't pretend to be straight.”

 

“I never wanted you to do that.”

 

“But I can't tell anyone that I'm with you. I can't hold your hand in public, kiss you on a whim. I've got no hope for a future with you.” He looked like he'd cry.

 

Dean reached out to his arm, but withdrew at the last second instead. “I don't know what to say. I just can't, Cas.”

 

“And I just can't, Dean.” One small tear escaped Castiel's eye. He swiped at his cheek with the back of his hand.

 

 _Suck it up, Winchester._ “Then you know what you have the do then.” Dean's voice was cold. He'd shut down a little. He had told himself that it wouldn't last, that he'd lose this too.

 

“We’ll talk after. Dean?”

 

“Why bother? It'll still just end with an adios. It was always going to end like this.” Castiel looked broken. He straightened his shoulders though. He closed his eyes and seemed to be trying to ground himself. “Adios, Cas.”

 

Cas opened his eyes. He gave Dean a small wave and took a step back. He swiftly turned away from Dean and moved into the crowds that were making their way to their seats. Dean didn't cry. He couldn't. One tear would unleash the rest and he just couldn't let himself fall apart like that. _Fuck you._ But it was unclear who his brain was mad at, Cas, himself, or maybe his father. He couldn't decide, so he pushed it down.

 

Michael eventually found him and dragged him to their seats. Sam and Ruby were maybe a little tipsy. “Stop drinking. We gotta perform,” Dean said.

 

“Don't be like that Dean. We're fine,” Sam said. He passed the flask to Dean. “Take the edge off Grandpa.”

 

“Bitch.” Dean took the flask though. “Shit, this more of that ‘shine?” Dean said after choking down a swallow.

 

“You better believe it,” Ruby smiled as she said it. “Only the best for my boys.” She let out a whoop and got some looks from the more straight-laced members of the crowd. Dean kept the ‘shine. He would drink it all before the ceremony was over.

 

 

The Vanity Fair after party was the place to see and be seen. Cas considered changing up the order of the parties that they'd attend, but then he'd have to explain himself. He wasn't ready for that. Winchester won the Grammy for best song. Fallen took best album. All in all, it should have been a good night.

 

Dean was at every party. There was no escaping him. After all, they had planned their schedules together. As the evening progressed it was becoming increasingly clear that Dean was more than a little drunk.

 

Anna approached Cas who had been doing his best impression of having a quietly good time. He was failing at it, but it was his best effort. “You okay?”

 

“Everyone keeps asking me that. I'm fine.”

 

“Isn't that what humans say when they are the exact opposite?”

 

Cas laughed. It was true. “It's just been a long, miserable week.”

 

“Really? Seemed like you were doing great right up until we got to the ceremony. What changed?”

 

“Guess things finally just caught up with me is all. I might cut out early. You think anyone will notice?”

 

Anna's boyfriend, maybe fiance, Cas couldn't keep track, came over and claimed her arm. “Come to the cheesecake table with me. I need someone to take some for me so I can stop looking like a total glutton.”

 

Anna laughed at him. She turned to Cas and said, “Come with us. Hog the cheesecake with the gluttons.”

 

Cas smiled at them, warm and genuine. “You go. I'm good. See you at the studio.”

 

He made his escape then. The courtyard outside was nearly empty. There was an exit at the far end. Cas pulled out his phone and called his car.

 

Before he could leave Dean was in his field of vision. He had a woman in his arms. She had long, chestnut hair, and an olive complexion. She was beautiful. Dean looked up from the tangle of her body and caught his eye. He went back to kissing her.

 

Castiel rushed out the gate. His car wasn't there, wouldn't be there for at least another 20 minutes. The gate opened behind him. He didn't want to turn, didn't want it to be Dean, but he also didn't want it to be some stranger either.

 

“'Gratulations,” Dean slurred. Castiel turned to him with a sigh. “Guess you got it all now.”

 

“You're very drunk.” Castiel stayed rooted to the spot.

 

“It's a party. ‘Spose to be happy.”

 

“Let me call you a ride,” Cas offered. He pulled out his phone to do it. Dean moved into his space, pushed him back against the far wall on the other side of the gate. No one was out there. It was dark and eerie. “Dean,” Cas whispered. “You should go home.”

 

“One for the road,” Dean asked, almost clearly. Dean was leaning in, seemingly to kiss him.

 

“No Dean.” Castiel pushed him back. He'd meant it to be gentle, but Dean was very unstable. He tried to stop Dean's fall, but he failed. Dean ended up in a humiliated heap at Cas’ feet.

 

“Guess that says it all.” Dean rolled onto his knees, then stood. Cas reached out to help, but Dean shoved his hands away. “Don't need you. Don't need your pity.”

 

He barreled back into the courtyard, leaving Cas alone again in the dark.

 

 

Cas threw himself into work. Being home or being alone left too much time for thought. When those moments did arise though, he poured his feelings into new music. The lyrics came easily. Every song vented his frustrations. There were ragers aplenty. There were also songs that spoke to the other emotions, the sorrow and dejection that he carried.

 

The band put up with his intensity. Anna tried to get him talking, but he never gave her an inch. She even seemed to guess, asking about Dean and how he was.

 

She knew how he was. Everyone knew how he was. For a man that ‘Valued privacy’ Dean Winchester certainly was quick to share a lot with the camera. Cas couldn't seem to escape him. When shopping, he was confronted by Dean's grinning face on several magazines lined up at the checkout counter. When he was at home, the news media did their part to cover every bit of his life.

 

It was how Cas came to know more than he wanted to about the many ways in which Dean had moved on. He'd done well to a point. Yes, he drove his band mad with constant work at the studio, but he didn't go home and drink himself into oblivion. So there was that at least.

 

It had been months since the Grammys. Months since everything went to hell, and here he was still wallowing in what he decided was self-pity. He held the band at the studio for ten hours. They grumbled through it, but did what he wanted, so victory. When he got home he turned on the TV, hoping it'd be a Dean-free night.

 

He was unlucky. Dean was everywhere, and so was the woman, Lisa. Everyone loved Lisa or wanted to be Lisa. Castiel could barely look at her. All he saw when she was on the screen or splashed across infinite magazines, was that night in the _Vanity Fair_ courtyard, her body all tangled up with Dean's.

 

They were being interviewed on _Access Hollywood_ , and Cas almost switched the whole thing off, but then the words caught him.

 

“So when's the date?” The women conducting the interview leaned forward as if to make the moment more intimate.

 

Dean chuckled and set a gentle hand on top of Lisa's. “Oh, we haven't figured that out yet.”

 

Lisa was beaming back at him, all doe-eyed fondness. Cas felt sick. He marched into his kitchen to retrieve alcohol. He clutched at a full bottle of Jack as he made his way back to the couch. He didn't even bother with a glass. He intended to wipe this evening out.

 

Lisa was talking about the night they meet, then they were telling about the proposal. Cas felt the drink hitting his stomach. He spoke to the TV, to Dean. “Guess you gotta really care about someone to go on national TV to talk about your engagement. Asshole.”

 

He drank until the world spun. He wanted to face Dean. He wanted to tell him off. He couldn't though. Night came to him, and eventually the drinking did its job.

 

 

When deliveries were large enough, the doorman brought them to the various apartments. Dean was up early. It was easier to get a little writing done while Lisa was still asleep. She and Ben, her son, had agreed to a trial run of moving into his place. They planned to try living together at her place next. Neither could agree on what was best for them, a home in the heart of things or a place that was just a little suburban.

 

The knock at the door startled Dean out of his thoughts. It was Saturday, and the night before had been a success. They'd done their interviews, and Sam and Ruby took them out to dinner to celebrate more.

 

Dean opened the door to the doorman and the very large package. “Sorry to bother you so early, but this came for you, and it's a little on the big side.” The man passed the package to Dean.

 

“Not a problem. Thanks man.” Dean took the box and closed the door. He set it down on his dining room table. The penthouse windows were all open. The early morning light was filling the room.

 

Dean opened the box. Inside was a guitar case. _Shit._ He knew before he even opened it. He'd been doing his level best to shut down that brief part of his life. Thinking about Cas left him a mess. Instead, he immersed himself in everything else, in Lisa, in the band, even in taking on a fatherly role with Lisa's kid.

 

He set a gentle hand on the case and considered not opening it. Dean felt the passage of time as he stood there. He slowly opened the case. The black and chrome Fender was just as beautiful as always. An envelope was held between the strings. Dean freed it.

 

Opening it, reading it, all of that seemed like the worst possible thing to do. Life was full of bad choices, so of course he opened the envelope.

 

_Dean,_

 

_I hear congratulations are in order. I guess you just had to find your soulmate before you'd be comfortable shouting about your love into every camera on the planet._

 

_Enjoy the guitar. I know I won't play it if I keep it. So don't try sending it back. If you do, I've got a burn pile waiting for it in the backyard. I'm sure it'll melt nicely._

 

_Have a nice life._

 

_Castiel_

 

Dean just stared at the letter. It was harsh, and it didn't sound like Cas. Dean carefully folded it back up and slipped it into the envelope. He tucked it into his pants pocket. He considered texting. A brief thank you, an apology, something, but he couldn't think of where to begin. He was angry too. The end was rough. Not seeing Cas, not talking with him after spending so much time with him had been every kind of terrible.

 

Seeing Cas on TV with his new “friend” Sabel had also set off feelings he didn't want. Drowning in a new life seemed to be the only way. So here he was. He picked up the guitar and played a near silent song without attaching it to an amp.

 

 _Damn it Cas._ Dean tried not to let it get a foothold in him, but the feelings were there just like they always were, just like they always would be.

 

 

Billboard Top 100 Countdown:

 

#1 Crushed by Fallen

#2 Thanks A**hole by Winchester

…


	3. Time and Time Again

 

Ten years… Time enough to maybe mend the age old damages. Instead of taking pleasure in that line of thinking, Dean laid in Cas’ bed worrying. He could ruin it all again just as easily as he did the first time.

 

Castiel had his arms wrapped around Dean, making him the little spoon. It was comforting to be held, and he needed that comfort in this moment. He needed to think more. He needed to run through the situation before he opened his mouth and maybe then he wouldn't ruin it all. Missouri had told him as much during several of their sessions.

 

She came highly recommended. Apparently, everyone has a shrink these days. He knew he had issues, and he also knew they wouldn't get better without help. Finding Missouri Mosley was a small miracle. She didn't take his bullshit, and she handed down real advice that actually helped. He'd been seeing her for years now, and though he didn't feel like he still needed to keep it up, he did anyway just to make sure he didn't backtrack on all that progress.

 

Also, she made it quite clear that he absolutely needed to keep up the therapy despite his wild opinions to the contrary.

 

He hadn't come out. He hadn't “felt it necessary” he'd said in his sessions. Missouri did not agree, but she also didn't push. Dean felt that what mattered was the way that he was finally ready. If and when the issues were to arise organically, he thought that he'd be fine. And to him, that was really something.

 

Dean slipped out of Cas’ arms and out of the room. He snagged his phone from the kitchen counter on the way. He needed to call Missouri. He made his way out the back door into Cas’ yard and pulled up Missouri's contact info. A few rings and then her honeyed voice rolled over the line.

 

“Why Dean, I was wondering if you'd call. You should be here already.” Dean pulled the phone from his ear and looked at the time.

 

“Shit.” He put the phone back to his ear. “Sorry 'bout that. I actually forgot what day it was.”

 

“Not a problem, dear. I'll just bill you and then go water my plants on your dime.”

 

“Could we maybe talk a little now?” Dean wasn't even sure where to begin.

 

“Course you can honey. What's bothering you.” She let her voice go soft with the words.

 

Diving into the deep end, Dean said, “I slept with Cas last night.”

 

“Oh,” she said, but didn't go on.

 

“I'm kinda freaking out.”

 

“Oh Dean, we've made so much progress though.” The disappointment in her voice came through loud and clear.

 

“No, no. I'm not freaking out like that. I'm…” He didn't know how to explain it, but he woke up in Castiel's arms and felt like everything was so fragile. “I'm going to ruin this, Missouri. I don't want to ruin this.”

 

“I thought you told me that he hated you.”

 

Dean sighed and dropped into one of the pool chairs. “I'm often wrong. This time was no exception.”

 

“So why do you think you'll ruin this?” Dean could almost feel the look she'd be giving him if he was there, all maternal and also demanding.

 

“I ruined it before. He cared for me, but I wasn't willing to come out for him.”

 

“Dean,” her tone made him sit up straighter as she continued, “You don't come out for someone else. You come out because it's what you need to do for you. This is a personal journey.”

 

“I know that, I do, but doing this for him would have also been good for me back then. The last ten years ain't been a picnic, not for either of us.”

 

“So he cares about you right?”

 

Dean nodded a little timidly then realized that she couldn't see him. “I think so... I mean yes.”

 

“And you care about him?”

 

Dean nodded again, a little more confidently and said, “So much.”

 

“Then, the way should be clear for you.” She hummed a little, and Dean felt warm and comforted. “You just follow your heart here. You let yourself be loved, and don't let any of that past junk stand in the way of your happiness. I want you to be happy, Dean. Lord knows it's been a long time since you've been able to hold onto that feeling.”

 

“And what if I,” Dean started.

 

“Mess up?”

 

Dean was nodding again, but also said, “Yeah.”

 

“Then you clean it up before it turns into a stain. At the very least let him know how you feel. Life's too short to keep all those feelings bottled up.”

 

Dean let the advice sink in. “Thanks for talking me down.”

 

“It's what I'm here for.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “You come see me next week and tell me how it went.”

 

“Will do.” They ended the call with the usual pleasantries. Dean looked out across the yard at the early morning sky. It felt peaceful now. Something in him felt different. _Maybe it'll be okay._ He got up moved back into the house and climbed the stairs. Cas was still sleeping, limbs everywhere. The space next to him looked inviting.

 

Dean set his phone on the nightstand and settled back into the bed. Cas unconsciously wrapped his arms around him again. Dean felt like he'd come home.

 

 

“What’re you doing today, Cas?” Dean's words came to him over the phone.

 

Cas scrubbed his fist over his eyes, wiping the sleep away. “It's 10:30, Dean. You only left an hour ago.”

 

“What tired of me already?” Dean laughed, and that perked Cas up a little.

 

“Nah, just tired. You forget I'm old. I can't just go three rounds with you and then have a normal functioning day.”

 

Now Dean was laughing even harder. “So you're saying you can't handle me?”

 

“I'm saying I needed a couple of hours to sleep.”

 

“It's been a couple of hours.”

 

“An hour. One single hour.” Cas was awake now, though. “Are you coming back over?”

 

“I'm picking up breakfast or brunch. Are we brunch people?”

 

“I'm a bunch person. I'm not sure if you are.” Castiel was getting out of bed. “I'm going to take a shower. Let yourself in.”

 

“See ya in a few.”

 

They hung up and Castiel made his way to the bathroom. He gave himself a once over in the mirror. He scrubbed a hand over his chin, tipping his head back and forth. Dean had left a couple of marks on his neck. Castiel rolled his eyes. He pulled out his phone and typed out some thoughts to Dean.

 

**Cas: we are not teenagers.**

 

**Dean: I know. Are you still grumpy because I won't let you sleep?**

 

**Cas: my neck is a bit of a mess right now. I've got interviews this week.**

 

**Dean: guess that'll make things difficult for you. ;)**

 

Castiel set aside the phone and got in the shower. He wondered, not for the first time, if this time could be different. Before he left, Dean had kissed him. He whispered in Castiel's ear that he'd be back later, and he'd called him Angel with all the affection of someone who really felt something.

 

Castiel made short work of the shower and got dressed. Tight jeans and a grey tee seemed like a good choice. As he walked down the stairs he heard the door opening.

 

Dean walked in, wearing a fresh change of clothes. He had on a black button up, French tucked into his tight black pants. Dean set down the bag of fast food he was holding on the side table by the door.

 

Dean walked straight up to Cas, pressed his body to the wall and kissed him deeply. Cas moved his hands to Dean's face then back into his hair. “Missed you,” Dean breathed out as he stepped back.

 

“You were barely gone.” Cas smiled at him though. “What's in the bag?”

 

“All the best breakfast sandwiches. Realized we'd be very late if I didn't get road food. Promise you won't spill in my Baby.” Dean winked.

 

“Uh, where are we going?” Dean was already scooping up the bag and opening the door. “Do I need to grab anything?”

 

Dean seemed to think about that for a moment then said, “Nah, we're just going out to Malibu for a bit.”

 

“Isn't that where…”

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, thought we could go see Sam. If you don't want to go with me...”

 

“I'll go,” Cas interrupted. “Would he want me around though? I mean, we hardly know each other.”

 

“He’ll be fine with it. Sammy is everyone's friend. You met him, so he would be comfortable.”

 

“Even in rehab?” Cas sounded doubtful.

 

“Especially in rehab. He kinda reset his worldview in there. He ended things with Ruby after he entered rehab, and frankly I think he needs even more friends now to help fill the gap.”

 

“Well I'd be happy to visit him with you.”

 

They got in the car and headed out to Malibu. Dean rolled down the window, and Cas did the same. They cranked up the music, and sang loudly down the highway. Dean reached across the seat and took Cas’ hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed Cas’ knuckles.

 

“You seem to be quite happy,” Cas said as he turned down the music.

 

“Well, duh.” Dean let out a little snort of a laugh.

 

“Would it be bad for me to ask the questions I didn't ask last night?” Castiel felt Dean's hand tighten around his just a little.

 

“Ask all you want.” Dean shot him a glance. It looked sincere.

 

“Is anything different this time?”

 

“It's been ten years Cas. Just about everything is different.” Dean sighed. He let go of Cas’ hand to rake his fingers back through his hair, a nervous gesture. “I got a shrink. She's been walking me through the tough bits for a few years now. I think I'm better than I was. She thinks I still have a ways to go yet.”

 

“So you still see her?”

 

Dean said, “Yeah, nearly every week, except when I'm out of town.” He glanced at Cas and then added, “She's probably right about me needing a lot more of this therapy stuff. I ain't good at sharing like feelings and crap. I'm a work in progress. Not sure if that's something you wanna hitch your wagon to.”

 

Dean didn't look at him after that. He just gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Cas reached up and set his hand on the back of Dean's seat, then let it slip down to his neck. He massaged him there as they drove along.

 

“I've changed too.” Castiel stared out his window. “I still have to be me though, despite having learned a little patience.” He glanced back at Dean and caught his eye. “After they died…” Castiel sucked in a deep breath. “I realized I had let myself lose my humanity. I stopped caring about the needs of the people in my life.”

 

Dean interrupted, “I doubt that, Cas.”

 

“You weren't there. You don't know how I was. I drove them to exhaustion. It's the reason that they kicked me out of the band just before the accident. If I'd have been kinder, less selfish, maybe they'd be alive today. I always thought I knew what was best, how to love, how to deal. I was wrong about so many things.”

 

They drove on in silence for awhile, each in their own thoughts. Before they reached Malibu, Dean broke the silence.

 

“Maybe we have a shot then at making this,” he waved his hand between them before saying, “work.”

 

“You mean like a relationship?”

 

“Maybe, if you want that.” Dean was focused on the road, the turn off and the traffic.

 

“What would that mean to you, a relationship with me?” Cas was trying not to sound too hopeful. Wanting Dean had been a constant for so long despite the distance, the bad communications, and the years.

 

“Not sure. I think it means we make it up as we go.” Dean pulled into a long driveway. Eventually there was a gate. He had to get cleared for entry before it opened. There was a nice Victorian house at the end of the drive, large with a wrap around porch, unusual for the Malibu region.

 

“This it?” Cas asked.

 

“Yeah.” Dean pulled off to the side and shut off the car. The engine ticked and cooled. “I don't want to mess things up this time, Cas.”

 

Castiel just looked at him, waiting for him to go on. He needed to know that certain things really could be different, and part of him wondered if he could deal with it if those things weren't different.

 

“Come meet my brother again,” Dean said as he opened the door, effectively ending the moment.

 

Cas followed him up the path to the front door. A woman in plain clothes, jeans and a tee, came out to greet them. “Sam's out back meditating. He didn't say you were coming to visit today.” She was all smiles though.

 

“Kinda wanted to surprise him. Hope that's okay.” Dean smiled broad and sincere.

 

“Course it is. You go on and find him.”

 

They walked around the side of the house, back past the Impala again. Dean said, “In the beginning, they made me go through a bunch of check in procedures. They had to make sure I wasn't going to slip him anything. I've earned their trust now, it seems. Certainly helps that I was the one that put him here.” There was a little rise in the path. On the other side was the vast Pacific ocean and Sam. “Hey Sam!” Dean called out.

 

Sam turned, a bright smile on his face. The wind was blowing his long sandy hair all around. He was dressed in all white linen. “Dean.” Sam got up and marched to them, pulling Dean into a hug when they met in the middle. Cas just stood awkwardly to the side.

 

“You look like a damn hippie,” Dean grumbled, but it was clear that he wasn't serious. “Just one minute and some hedge clippers…”

 

“Oh, stop,” Sam said. Then he turned his attention to Cas. “Cas.” It was almost a question. “It's been years.” He reached out his hand, and Cas shook it.

 

“Good to see you again. Hope I'm not intruding.”

 

“Not at all. I always enjoy getting visitors.” He waved for them to follow him up the bluff to a small weathered, wooden table. Dean sat next to Cas and Sam was across from them. “So how's your album coming along?” Sam asked them both.

 

Cas folded his hands in front of himself on the table and answered, “Dean just finished one of the songs I'd been working on for what seems like forever. We're quite close to having a full set of solid pieces.”

 

“That sounds great.” Sam smiled. “Glad to see this is working out so well. When Bobby told me about getting you two signed together, it sounded like it was problem city.”

 

And without warning, Dean reached over and set his hand on top of Castiel's. He gave Cas’ hands a squeeze. “We worked that out.”

 

Sam's gaze dropped to their hands. “What do you mean?” Sam asked. He was grinning though, and Cas thought that maybe Sam knew exactly what it meant.

 

Dean loosened one of Cas’ hands and threaded their fingers together. “I guess it means you'll be seeing a lot more of Cas when you see me.”

 

“You've been keeping some secrets,” Sam said with a smile. He looked at Cas then and asked, “So you two? How long?”

 

Cas looked to Dean then. He wasn't sure how to answer. Dean leaned in and quickly kissed the edge of Castiel's mouth. “Forever maybe. Or yesterday. Or ten years. Depends on your perspective.”

 

“Well I'm glad for you both,” Sam said.

 

“I'm glad for us too.” Dean looked to Cas, and Cas squeezed his hand. It was a step, a good step, a big step.

 

They talked of a bunch of things, Sam getting out, their album, the eventual tour. Time passed them by all slow and steady. It was easy taking with Sam. Cas liked the way they'd go from serious to silly in an instant. They bickered about the past. They talked pop culture like it was their second language, and Castiel had trouble following some of it.

 

In the midst of all of it, Cas felt like he'd finally turned a corner in what had been a rather sad existence. He smiled now, almost constantly. His cheeks hurt from the effort.

 

When they left, Cas said as they got in the car, “I hope you know you're coming home with me, and you're staying the night.”

 

Dean smiled back at him. “Was hoping that was the plan.”

 

 

They had thought at the time that they were close to done with the first album, but once they got together, things became decidedly less productive. It took them six more months to get it all together, but Crowley and Bobby seemed to be okay with the whole thing, too okay. They actually seemed downright happy.

 

Cas chalked it up to Crowley's never ending desire for money. And this album was going to be a money maker. Word was already out there about the collaboration between two powerhouse performers. When they added a drummer to the mix, excitement went through the roof, because Kevin Tran wasn't just a drummer in anyone's book.

 

Adding Kevin also got them back into a more professional pattern of work, rather than the one quarter work to three quarters make out session that they had going.

 

The tour was another thing. They started selling tickets even before the album was released. The shows would be smaller and more intimate despite the fact that Crowley wanted them to do full stadium concerts. To appease him they let him schedule one stadium stop on the last night of the tour.

 

Their relationship was still just theirs, and sometimes Cas struggled with that. Telling Sam had been a step in the right direction, but it had been one of the only steps. Kevin knew, but that was only because he walked in on them kissing at the studio when they thought that he'd left for the day.

 

Kevin honestly couldn't have cared less. In fact he said something to the effect of, “I thought you two were a thing. That much staring always means that someone's getting laid.”

 

So two people in all the world were in on the secret. It should have been enough, but Cas wanted more. He wanted to tell everyone. When interviewers asked about his dating life he wanted to tell them all about Dean and how much he meant to him.

 

And that was another thing too. Castiel was pretty sure this was love, the kind that sticks with you for the long haul. He wanted to tell Dean that he loved him, that he was everything, that this thing that they'd been doing forever should really be an acknowledged forever deal.

 

There was this concert tour to get through first though. Maybe when they wrapped that up, he'd sit Dean down and talk to him about the direction of things. Maybe then he could just come out and tell him everything he was feeling.

 

 

“Did you see the crowd?” Kevin was practically bouncing back stage. “I forgot what the stadium crowds were like. Shit.”

 

“Calm down bucko.” Dean settled a hand on his shoulder. “You got this.” Cas came over and joined their little trio. Dean leveled his gaze on him. “You ready, Cas?”

 

“Pumped.” Cas gave Dean a wink then looked out at the sea of people. They'd had sold out concerts for months now, but those venues were no bigger than a few hundred people. This was like it was before when Winchester and Fallen were their own things.

 

Kevin looked at Dean and said, “Still ending with ‘Maybe I'm Amazed’ right?”

 

“Absolutely,” Dean answered. “Hope the crowd’s okay with that.” Dean had plans for that song, plans that only he and Kevin had fully discussed.

 

The crowd let loose a wild cheer every now and then. The opening act would be taking the stage at any minute then it would just be a half hour to showtime.

 

They went back to their respective dressing rooms. Cas followed Dean into his. Dean spun him around once the door had closed. He kissed him deep, wedging a firm thigh between Cas’ legs. “So ready to get back home.”

 

“Your home or mine?” That had been something that had been hovering between them for awhile now. Dean spent most nights out at Cas’ place, but there'd also been a fair number of nights that they'd stayed at Dean's penthouse too.

 

“Either. Just home with you,” Dean's answer was safe. He didn't want to presume anything. He was about to presume plenty at the end of the concert, but he felt like that would be okay. Somehow asking if he could just flat out move in seemed like a kind of rudeness. It was Cas’ home, Cas should do the inviting.

 

There was a knock on the door, and Cas stepped away from Dean, creating a respectable distance. Dean opened the door. “You all up for some company?” Sam stood there tall and all aglow with good health. He was heading into his second year of sobriety, and it seemed like it'd stick.

 

“Get in here,” Dean said, pulling him into a hug. “Wasn't sure you'd be up for the trip.”

 

“Well Bobby was willing to make the trek with me. Apparently he and Crowley are…” Sam made an obscene gesture with his hands.

 

“What? You're kidding me.” Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“I'm confused,” Cas said.

 

“You can't be confused. Did you just miss the very obvious hand gesture?” Dean's voice rose an octave.

 

“Wait,” Cas turned to Sam and continued, “You mean they're a couple? I mean, I knew about the occasional hook-up, everyone knows that.”

 

“I wouldn't go that far, but they are sharing a room at the hotel we're all staying in. I'd avoid dropping in unannounced.” Sam tossed himself in a seat. Dean sat on the couch. There was a bowl of some candy. He pulled one out and ate it. Cas was still hovering at the door, likely processing the new information. Sam gave Dean a look that asked a question. Then he shot a quick glance at Cas.

 

Dean grinned and nodded. Then he said, “I think those two have been circling each other for awhile now. Love's a funny thing.”

 

“I don't know that I'd call it love yet,” Sam said. “Give it a bit more time.” He drummed at his thighs a little.

 

“You nervous?” Dean asked.

 

“I just got some news, but it can wait.”

 

“Nope, now you gotta tell.” Dean leaned forward a little. Cas finally came over and sat down next to him.

 

“Well, I am…” Sam started folding and unfolding his hands together. “I'm seeing someone.”

 

Cas said, “Oh Sam, that's great!”

 

“Yeah, she's something.”

 

“Where’d you meet? Do I know her?” Dean was already a little worried. Sam's track record was not so great.

 

“You don't know her. She teaches at a school for the deaf in northern California. I met her when I was working that charity gig up there.” Sam looked down at his hands. “She didn't have a clue who I was.”

 

“And she still gave you the time of day?” Dean laughed.

 

“Yeah. She's kinda great like that. God knows why she likes me. Thank goodness I learned a little sign back in college. She puts up with me being horrible at it. I'm getting better though.”

 

“So she's deaf as well?” Cas asked.

 

“Yeah.” Sam smiled and looked a little like he'd float off into the clouds. “Her name's Eileen, and I want you two to meet her.”

 

Cas said, “Well, we might need to talk about how that's gonna go. Dean?”

 

“What do you mean? Of course we'll meet her,” Dean said.

 

“I was just thinking we might need to discuss how we present ourselves, or our relationship.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and said, “Sure Cas. Let's just table this until after the concert though.” And as if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

 

“Five minutes, Mr. Winchester.” The voice came through the door.

 

“Well, Sammy, go get a good seat.” Dean gave Sam a hug on the way out, slapping his back a little too hard at the end.

 

“Break a leg,” Sam said.

 

Kevin joined them in the hall. They were all bouncing with the energy of what was to come. Dean cracked his neck and shook out his limbs. The crowd was cheering with anticipation. The three of them took to the stage.

 

 

Each song from the new album was met with screams and enthusiasm. Given the number of hits that album had generated in the past year, it was no wonder.

 

The staging was also proving to be a winner. They had large panels running high up behind them on which were projected scenes that matched the songs’ themes. They didn't include a bunch of pyrotechnics. They'd talked about it, but wanted to steer clear of the spectacle of them.

 

Their first song was a fast number that they started playing as they walked out onto the stage. The crowd went crazy. Cas entered the stage from the right and Dean came out on the left. Kevin followed Dean then took to the drums, where he started dropping a beat.

 

They slowed things down by the third song. Cas left the stage to get himself ready. He'd re-enter via a rising platform. To buy time, Dean talked with the crowd. “You all having a good time tonight!”

 

The crowd screamed even louder. A high-pitched female voice yelled, “We love you, Dean!”

 

“Ah,” Dean directed his gaze to the general direction of the declaration. “Love ya too.” He gave the audience a wink. He told them a little about the year that had passed, the planning and the song writing. He introduced Kevin and engaged in some banter with him too.

 

He ended the chat by talking about the next song. Suddenly, a voice came over the speakers from backstage. “Dean Winchester, stop stalling. This harness may be the most uncomfortable torture device ever made.”

 

Dean chuckled and rolled his eyes. The crowds laughed with him. The cameras were projecting a larger image of Dean on the screens so even the back of the crowd saw the look. “And that's our grumpy little angel right there.” He strummed a chord and turned the Kevin. “You ready for this?”

 

Kevin let out some sort of primal yell in response. The crowd went wild again. Dean started playing. The opening part of the song was lonely sounding, all slow with long held notes. Dean thought that it sounded like being on a desert island.

 

Dean began singing. It was a song about salvation, about the moments when one finds themselves not so wholly alone. Every thought that Dean had while he was writing it was of Cas, how he saved him from a life that was really only half lived.

 

Halfway into the song the platform began rising up behind them. Cas stood on it. He was playing a speedier version of the song. The whole piece changed then into something that was like a 1980’s big hair band, complete with the occasional high-pitched wail.

 

The projections behind Cas shifted through various colors and images. By the end of the song Cas just stopped playing suddenly. It was how they'd planned it. The projections directly behind him went stark white and a set of black wings were there behind him too. They seemed to be his.

 

Cas dropped to the platform. Dean knew he was strapping in his guitar. As many times as they practiced this bit, it still made Dean nervous watching the platform drop away. Cas was suspended in the air. The projected wings crumbled on the screen behind Cas. His body spun a little as he was suspended. Dean played out the end of the song, all slow like it was at the beginning, yet somehow it didn't sound as lonely.

 

The projections made it look like Cas was falling. At one point he seemed to resemble the falling angel on the cover of the Zeppelin album that Dean loved so much. Then Cas separated from his guitar and slowly began to actually descend to the stage.

 

When he was finally deposited on the stage, Dean let his guitar go quiet. Kevin kept the song going with a soft drum beat, the heart of the song. Dean reached down, and Cas took his hand to get up. They retrieved Cas’ guitar next and, together played out there last twenty seconds of the song.

 

Dean reached out when the song was done and cupped the side of Cas’ face. It was an intimate moment. They grinned at each other, but Dean could see the confusion in Cas’ eyes. They were always so careful in public, and this was very public. Dean nodded and dropped his hand. The crowd was eating it all up with a spoon.

 

They had their encores and the planned final song was upon them. Cas spoke with the crowd this time. He told them how lucky they felt that Sir Paul McCartney had agreed to let them play his song. He was so humble. Cas even said, “I just hope we can do it justice.”

 

There wasn't a part for Kevin on the drums, but he stayed at his place just the same. Dean had taken a seat at the large black piano on the stage and he started playing. Cas stood at center stage with a mic stand in front of him. The crowd was quiet as Cas’ low voice delivered the lyrics, “Maybe I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time//Maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you.”

 

Dean sang the next set of lines, “Maybe I'm amazed at the the way you pulled me out of time//And hung me on a line//Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you.” The song spoke to Dean. He felt like it was their turning point. It was their song. He wondered if the crowd could see how intimate it was. He wondered if they'd already guessed at the feelings that went along with the singing of the piece.

 

“Maybe I'm a man and maybe I'm a lonely man//Who's in the middle of something//That he doesn't really understand.” They'd gone back and forth over who should sing these lines the first time. Cas won and delivered them perfectly.

 

The next verse was all Dean's. He made a slight change. “Maybe I'm a man and maybe you're the only man//Who could ever help me//Baby won't you help me understand.”

 

Cas caught the change. He turned a little and stared at Dean as he delivered the next set of words. “Maybe I'm a man and maybe I'm a lonely man//Who's in the middle of something//That he doesn't really understand.”

 

And Dean was sure that maybe Cas really didn't understand what had just happened and especially what was about to happen. Dean shot him a shiteating grin, and sang his altered lines again. “Maybe I'm a man and maybe you're the only man//Who could ever help me//Baby won't you help me understand.”

 

At this point, Kevin came to the piano and took Dean's spot. He kept playing like there had been no interruption. Dean walked to Cas who was already delivering the beginning of the last verses. They were going to sing them together. Cas was looking at him; worry was in his eyes. They hadn't planned for Dean to come to him. It was getting intimate.

 

“Maybe I'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time//Maybe I'm afraid of the way I leave you//Maybe I'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song//Right me when I'm wrong.” They sang those lyrics together. Dean got right up in the middle with Cas and started sharing his mic.

 

Then, Dean reached out and pressed two fingers to Cas’ lips so that only he delivered the last line, “Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you.”

 

The crowd loved it. Dean dropped to one knee and pulled out a small box. He'd managed to slip a wireless mic into his back pocket. He pulled it out now and sang, “Maybe I'm amazed by the way I love you…” Dean held the last note a little long.

 

Cas gazed down at him in shock. “Maybe I'm a man, and maybe I'm a lonely man, but you make me understand.” Dean sang the verse and lifted the now opened box for Cas to see. The ring was silver. It caught the spotlight. It wasn't pretentious or jewel encrusted. It was simple, and exactly what he thought Cas would like. Sam had assured him that it was perfect.

 

Cas still hadn't moved. “Cas,” Dean started. Cas eyes shifted to the crowd then back to Dean, still shocked. Dean turned to the crowd and said, “Guess I shocked him.” He turned back to Cas then and said, “Marry me. I love you.”

 

It was simple as far as declarations go, but Dean knew that if it wasn't a song, he needed to keep it simple. He didn't want to mess any of it up.

 

Cas seemed to snap out of his shock then. He reached down to Dean and took his hand. Dean stood and had his own shock to deal with as Cas pulled him in for a kiss. The crowd cheered them on.

 

He felt a tap on his shoulder. Kevin grinned and said into Dean's mic, “So, did he say yes? We couldn't hear him past all that making out you two were doing.”

 

Cas leaned into the mic and said, “Of course I said yes!”

 

They held each other and stared out at the wild crowd. “Thanks for coming out here tonight and being such a great audience!” Dean called out to them. “See you all next time! Have a great night!”

 

They left the stage together, the roar of the crowd at their backs. There was much to say, but none of them were saying anything just yet.

 

Sam, Crowley, and Bobby met them at their dressing room. Champagne somehow made it to the room, along with a diet Coke for Sam. Cas finally put on the ring. “Got ya huh?” Dean said.

 

“You did.” Cas looked at the ring on his hand. “Thought we were looking forward to some down time.”

 

“Aren't we?”

 

“The press will not be leaving us alone any time soon.” Cas looked at Crowley who laughed then. “What?”

 

“This is going to make us so much money,” Crowley said as he wrapped an arm around Bobby's waist. “Now aren't you glad I got you on board with this?”

 

“I think I was the one that approached you,” Bobby said.

 

“Agree to disagree.” Crowley kissed Bobby on the cheek. “Wasn't sure what I was gonna do if you picked one of the other singers I showed you that day,” Crowley said to Cas.

 

Bobby added, “Thought Dean had figured it all out when he stormed out of the studio. Luckily my talk with Cas worked.”

 

Dean broke in now, saying, “Wait, I'm confused. You two manipulated us into getting back together?”

 

Cas added, “How'd you even know about us?”

 

Bobby laughed and Crowley joined him. “So, bloody obvious.”

 

Bobby was still laughing as he said, “They actually thought we didn't know.”

 

“So you two just wanted to get us back together, so you devised a whole contract, band, and tour?” Dean asked.

 

“I just wanted to make money, but manipulating you fools was entertaining.” Crowley came over and clapped Dean on the back and said, “You're welcome, and congratulations.”

 

Everyone gradually left. When it was just Dean and Cas. They both collapsed in a heap on the couch. Cas finally said, “This is a lot to unpackage.”

 

“You can say that again.” Dean leaned into Cas then and added, “What if we go home now and unpackage all of this tomorrow though?”

 

“Anything you say Mr. Winchester,” Castiel smiled at him.

 

“You gonna take my name, be the other Mr. Winchester?”

 

“Maybe. I may have come to love that name a great deal.”

 

“Not like you currently have a last name either. Might make all those pesky forms easier. Everyone expects a last name.”

 

Castiel laughed and said, “Then I should definitely consider it.” They got up from the couch. Dean took Cas’ hand in his. There'd be a swarm of reporters between the exit and the bus, questions to answer, and cameras to capture everything. They walked the long hall to the exit door. Dean could already hear the commotion outside.

 

“You ready, Mr. Winchester?” Castiel asked.

 

Dean lifted Cas’ hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “Absolutely.” Then he turned to the door, Cas’ hand in his and stepped out into the world, free and eager for what was to come.

**Author's Note:**

> As always thank you for any kudos you feel like leaving and any kind words. You can also find me on Tumblr under the name [Spearywritesstuff](http://spearywritesstuff.tumblr.com/) or more often on Twitter under the name [Spearywrites](https://twitter.com/spearywrites)


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